Cinder's Story
by Crazy Dr Giggles
Summary: Based on Disney's Cinderella, but with a yaoi twist. He has blue eyes, a sweet face, and golden hair. He works hard to please his step family. They despise him. But then one day, he meets his prince charming. And they struggle together for a happy ending.
1. First Morning

In the dreams, the prince always had black hair. _It makes sense, _thought the boy with the dreams. _I saw him once… a long time ago… he has black hair in real life… That seems like so long ago… _

Drifting in and out of reality, a young blonde boy lay at ease in his bed. He stretched his skinny arms above his head, letting out a tired sigh. "Good morning," he told himself, poking his warm toes out from under the blanket. The birds chirped outside his open window, flying around, bringing food to the nests on the roof, in the gutters. With a content smile, the boy sat up and threw off the warm blankets. Cold morning air nipped his skin, and he dreaded the chilly atmosphere in his attic room. "Deal with it," he said, sliding to the cool hardwood floor, his feet creating a soft patting sound.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, the boy walked to his window, happy with the bright morning. Opening his clear sapphire eyes, looking to the sun, then back to his dull attic room, the boy continued smiling. "I had the most wonderful dream," he sighed fondly, looking outside again. "I dreamt I was dancing in that marble castle," the boy said, pointing to the crystal clear castle beyond the village, "The insides were gold and you know who I was dancing with?" A little blue bird with a white head sat on the windowsill beside the boy. It cocked its head to the side and looked up. The boy leaned down on his hands and looked at the bird. It flew away, but the boy remained still and the small creature returned to look at him again, as if asking, "Who? Who were you dancing with, young child?"

A playful smile now made its way to the boy's lips, and he responded to the bird's unasked question, "The prince!" The boy twirled around his room happily, then flopped back onto his bed. "I danced with the prince in his castle of gold."

_**Bong! Bong! Bong!**_

"Huh?"

The boy with blue eyes sat up quickly on his bed, daydreams lost by the castle's clock chiming the hour.

_**Bong! Bong! Bong!**_

"I hear you, I hear you," the small boy muttered, "Gimme a minute!"

Dropping his nightgown on the floor, the boy washed his face and dressed in his everyday wear. Patched brown pants that ended just below his knees. A dirty, torn long-sleeve shirt and a black button up vest that went over it. Lastly, a pair of black slippers so worn, it was like wearing none at all.

"First things first," the little blonde told himself as he slipped on his tattered slippers, "I have to feed that rotten cat."

The boy made his way down the creaky attic stairs to the main entrance hall. In the hall there were granite stairs leading up to the main hall where the bedrooms were, but if the boy kept walking, he would make it to the dank lower kitchen. The cat could be in a number of places in the large estate, but was most likely sleeping in Step Father's room.

He made his way up the smooth stairs, gripping the wood railing he had polished yesterday. Down the hall, the third door on the left. That was Step Father Tremané's room. On the way, the boy drew the dark red hall curtains, letting in the sunlight. "That's better."

Back to the task at hand. The boy crept into his step father's dark room. The only light came from the crack left in the door. The bed was a pile of dark sheets, and the step father's form could just barely be seen. Next to his elegant bed of over a dozen pillows and laced with a gold headboard, was the cat's bed. A round cushion with a comforter fatter and fluffier than the boy's, the cat was a ball of black and gray fur atop it. With quiet feet, the young boy with blue eyes scooped up the cat. "Come on Luss," he whispered, sneaking to the door, "I'm making you breakfast first."

The cat, Luss, rubbed against the boy's shoulder until they made it to the muggy kitchen.

"Oh!"

The boy set Luss on the table. "The dog is in here," he muttered. Stepping lightly to the brown mutt, the boy leaned down and patted him. "Hey Bern," he soothed, "Time to wake up you dog, you."

With a wake-up whimper, Bern the dog sat up and yawned. He ignored the cat on the table and set his head in the hands of the boy. "You're a good dog, huh?" The boy smiled and scratched behind Bern's ears. "Time to go outside, boy," the blue-eyed child said and stood to open the door, "Go on." Bern stood and stretched, then walked slowly and sadly out the door. "I'll be out to feed you in a minute, boy."

The young blue eyed boy set to warming milk for the cat and preparing a soup for his step family. The boy heated water and prepared tea. He set out trays and arranged plates and bowls on them. "Okay," he sighed, wiping his forehead, "Now to feed the animals."

Grabbing a bag of grain, he slipped on his outdoor shoes and went out the door. First, throw grain to the chickens. He watched the hens peck and squabble. The mice dodged in and out of the quarrel, grabbing what food they could. The boy smiled and went to throw hay into the old gray horse's stall. He brushed down the old horse and gave him an affectionate scratch under the chin. "Lastly, food and water for Bern…"

"_**Cinder!"**_

The little boy looked up from pouring water for Bern. He could hear his step sister screaming his name from inside the chateau, demanding her breakfast. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he exclaimed and scrambled back into the house. Two service bells were ringing: step brother's and step sister's. The boy hurried to prepare their breakfast. "Here," the boy shoved a bowl of milk at Luss the cat and piled the breakfast trays into his arms.

"**Cinder! I want my breakfast! Hurry up you slow little twit!"**

"I'm sorry," the boy opened the door of his step sister's room, "Here Annabella. I have your breakfast right here."

"About time," she said, crossing her arms over her magenta nightgown, "Set it here." She scooted over in her bed, making room for the tray, her red curls bouncing lightly.

"I'm sorry for the wait," Cinder apologized.

"Don't let it happen again," Annabella growled, "Now get out!"

Cinder, the little blue eyed boy, closed the door of her room behind him and went to his step brother's next.

"Step brother Desmond," Cinder said as he entered the room, "I'm sorry I took so long."

Desmond sat in his bed, surrounded by gray sheets and golden-green pillows. His dark turquoise eyes were narrowed, but the soft-spoken man said nothing. Cinder nodded politely and set the breakfast on Desmond's bedside table. "I'll be going now," Cinder said quietly, "Is there anything-?"

"The laundry," Desmond said, "Over there on the dresser."

Over on the black chest of drawers was the step brother's white laundry bag, tied at the top and looking stuffed with clothing.

"Yes step brother," the blue eyed boy nodded again and took the laundry out to the hall. He had yet to deliver his step father's breakfast.

"I'll leave you there," Cinder told the bag of laundry he had gotten from Desmond, "And I'll take Step Father his breakfast, and then come back for you."

The boy with blue eyes knocked on the bedroom door of his step father's room before he entered. "Step Father," he said gently, "I have your morning meal."

Mr. Tremané sat up in his bed, luminescent green eyes glowing in the dim light. "Come in, child," he said, his voice gravelly and intimidating.

"Where would you like your breakfast?"

"On the table there," the step father pointed at a cherry-wood table just out of his reach, "I'll eat after I dress, thank you."

"Of course step father," Cinder replied, "Be careful it doesn't get cold."

"Cinder, take my laundry before you go."

"Yes step father," said the blonde boy as he left the room, picking up the three laundry bags on his way out.

"Chores, chores, chores," Cinder sang to himself as he skipped to the laundry room, "It seems that's all I ever do."


	2. Waking Up Early

_The wine colored drapes contrasted the white and gray marble walls. In the old castle once again, the blue eyed boy danced to his heart's content. The black haired prince, his face hidden in the pale moonlight, wrapped around the boy from behind. _

'Don't go,' Cinder whimpered under his breath, wrapping blankets around his thin frame. The sun had just begun to brighten the sky, lazily it drug itself up, content to keep its heat inside its person for the morning.

In the morning haze, Cinder lay in bed, his thin blankets providing just enough heat. It was too early for him to be awake. There was a full day of work ahead, but the young boy's eyes were wide. It wasn't surprising, after his dream. It started nice, wonderful, until the prince left. The prince had never left before.

An easy morning sigh escaped his lips, and he stretched and yawned, sleepy tears forming in his eyes. "I guess," he told himself, "I'll get a head start on the day… Since I'm already up…"

The window was open slightly, because the previous night's air had been warm. Now it let in the early morning cold. Hopping lightly out of bed, his feet quickly froze on the old hardwood floor. Cinder closed the window, the crossed his arms and shivered. "Might need an extra layer when I go out to feed the hens today…"

Dropping his nightgown on the floor, the boy washed his face and dressed in his everyday wear. The patched brown pants that ended just below his knees and the torn long-sleeve shirt with the black button up vest that went over it. Lastly, his pair of black slippers, so worn it was like wearing none at all.

The boy made his way down the creaky attic stairs, down the entrance hall and to the kitchen space. "Because it's so early, I might as well feed the other animals first," he mumbled, "I wouldn't want to wake my step-family at this hour…"

So the boy slipped on his wooden outdoor shoes and his extra coat and his thin scarf. "This'll do nicely," he smiled and wrapped it around his neck, "It's been awhile since I've needed it."

The bag of grain lay on the table where he had left it yesterday, and he scooped it up and took it out to the hungry animals. Rousing the chickens earlier than usual, throwing them each some grain, watching the mice scurry after it desperately, as was the norm. The old horse in the bard whinnied and demanded feed. And so Cinder threw hay in for him. Bern lay on the dirt floor beside the hay, sound asleep. His soft brown paws twitched here and there, a whine escaped his chops sometimes. He looked like a younger dog while he slept. Cinder smiled, but didn't pat him as he passed, so as not to wake the dreaming dog.

Out of the barn, Cinder filled Bern's water dish and gave him a bit of food, then headed back inside to feed the cat.

Luss, perceptive as he was, came down the moment he heard Cinder clomping around downstairs. The little furry ball sat atop the table with a face that had a look that said, 'why didn't you come get me first? I thought those were the orders?'

"Sorry Luss," Cinder smiled, rubbing the cat's chest with an idle finger, "I'll warm you some milk right away."

Cinder decided to warm enough milk to make oatmeal for breakfast, and got out the oats and honey. He got out the orange breakfast trays, the clean ones. He set out the teacups and the tea plates, the bowls and silver spoons. He turned to take the warmed milk and pour it. As he lifted the milk, he heard a slight clatter behind him. Turning with the milk, Cinder saw that Luss had clambered off the table. Bending down, the boy poured milk in Luss' bowl, and again heard the scraping of a teacup on a plate. Looking over his shoulder, Cinder couldn't see anything. His blonde hair fell in his eyes. So he stood and saw the black cat scramble under the table to his bowl of milk.

"Crazy animal," Cinder sighed.

The boy prepared the breakfast meal and set the teacups on the plates upside-down, except for the one he had done previously when he had gotten it out of the cupboard. He set the bowls filled with hot oats on the trays, each with their own pot of tea and a pot of honey for the meal. A spoon and napkin were to the right. Or were they supposed to be to the left? Thinking for a moment, the boy decided it didn't matter, so long as it looked nice.

The boy picked up the trays right when the first service bell rang. It was step-brother Desmond's.

Going out of the kitchen, Cinder balanced two trays on one arm, and a third on the other arm. Luss followed the boy out to the hall, down it, then up the grand stairs to the bedrooms. The black and gray fluff slunk up the stairs ahead of the boy and jumped onto the rail, waiting.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Cinder's worn slipper fell off his foot and he turned to slip it back on. "What a bother," he murmured.

Turning back, Cinder proceeded to his step-sister's room to deliver her breakfast. "Good morning Annabella," the boy said politely to the groggy woman lying in bed.

"Just," the step-sister yawned, "Just set it there…"

Cinder set the tray gently on the table indicated, picked up unfinished laundry, and left the room. Leaving the laundry in the hall, Desmond's room was next. "Good morning step-brother," Cinder nodded

"You got up quite early this morning," Desmond said in his deep, lifeless voice.

Cinder looked up, "Oh, did I disturb you?"

"Not directly…"

The little boy didn't understand his step-brother's response. There was a silence, and then Desmond cleared his saying a bit by adding, "The hens are very loud when they eat."

Cinder smiled, "Why, yes they are. I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll make sure to stick to my usual schedule then, if that appeals to you more."

"A little change is good sometimes," Desmond said, motioning for his breakfast to be brought to him in bed instead of being set on the bedside table as was usual, "but I don't think Father will appreciate it if the hens wake him up every morning."

Cinder nodded, setting Desmond's breakfast on the gray sheets and golden green comforters. "I'll be more courteous from here on out," he agreed quietly.

"All I need from you today is my laundry returned," Desmond added as Cinder left the room.

"I'll have it done by noon at the latest," the blue eyed boy nodded and closed the door behind him. One breakfast tray left, he headed to Step Father Tremané's room to deliver it. He knocked first, as he always did, and went in.

"On the table again, Step-Father," Cinder asked

"Yes that should be fine."

The boy put the tray on the table and turned back towards Mr. Tremané. "The laundry and these dirty dishes," the man said in his dark voice, matching the look of his face, "Get them done right away."

"Yes step father," Cinder picked them up, leaving the room without a whisper.

And then Annabella screamed.


	3. Punishment Day

"You did it on purpose you infuriating wretch!"

Annabella screamed as she shoved past Cinder in the hallway, "Father! Father! Punish him! Punish him! Punish him immediately!"

Cinder looked after his step sister, dumbfounded. What had he done?

Annabella slammed her way into Master Tremané's room. "There was a mouse in my teacup! In my teacup, a mouse! Cinder put it there on purpose! On purpose!"

Desmond stepped out of his room, quietly so as not to add to the noise made by his sister. Cinder looked at him, fearful and confused, "Step-brother I-"

"Yeah I know," Desmond interrupted the blonde haired boy, "Annabella is always making something out of nothing. You should be used to this by now."

"Maybe…" Cinder looked down at his feet. He stared at his worn slippers. He realized just how worn those slippers were. He wished sadly for a new pair.

"Don't worry," Desmond reassured in his no-nonsense tone of voice, "It is a highly unlikely feat to catch a mouse and restrain it in a teacup."

The blue eyed boy nodded, watching Desmond's face. He was looking off in the distance, not looking at Cinder when he spoke. _How comforting… _the boy thought, slightly sarcastic.

He had nothing to say, so Cinder just stood in silence, waiting for the shouting in his step father's room to die down.

Desmond poked his head into said room after Annabella had her last shout. The girl stormed out past him with a smug look on her face. "You're in for it now," she told Cinder, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking, "You'll get what you deserve."

"What punishment do you think he deserves," Desmond glared, "for not having done anything?"

"He did do something," Annabella screamed, "He put a mouse in my teacup! He was trying to poison me! He wants me dead!" Annabella stomped her foot, she threw down her arms and balled her fists, leaning towards Desmond like she was about to throw punches.

"Cinder," Master Tremané said eerily from the depths of his gray room, "Come here, child."

The blonde haired boy looked over at Desmond. The man was leaned up against the door frame of the dark room, his arms crossed over his chest, ashen hair falling in his eyes. "Well?" He raised his eyebrows.

Cinder stepped forward, slowly, passing Annabella and then Desmond. "Good luck," the step-brother whispered, then walked lazily back into his golden-green room.

Annabella let out a dark giggle and backed away.

Cinder went in the room. He heard his step father growl, "Close the door behind you." Before closing the heavy white door, the blue eyed boy let in the green eyed cat, Luss.

Master Tremané was sitting up in his bed. Luss scrambled up onto the bed and sat on the master's lap, purring fondly. Cinder stood in silence, watching his step-father stroke Luss under the chin. The little boy sighed, "Honestly step-father, you don't think I could've-"

"Silence!"

Cinder cringed. His left arm crossed over his chest, holding his right elbow tightly. He looked down, silently, obediently.

The drapes in the dining hall, all the tapestries need dusting-"

"I dusted the drapes and tapestries yesterday!" Cinder despaired over such an unfair punishment.

"Do them again!"

Cinder looked down again, his blonde hair covering his watering eyes.

"The large carpet in the main hall," the older man said, "clean it! The windows, upstairs and down, wash them! Clean the chimneys, sweep the halls, weed the garden. Plus there is the daily laundry and sewing."

The blonde boy just nodded silently. He had nothing to say. He couldn't stand against his beloved step father, his beloved step family. He turned to leave, his small hand resting on the door handle.

"Oh and one more thing," the step father smirked, "Make sure Luss gets his bath."

On his lap, the black cat cringed and turned to glare at the man whose lap he was sitting on.


	4. The Envelope

"Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale."

Downstairs, on the cold stone floor, Cinder sat and listened to his step sister singing upstairs in the music room. The boy wished that his step father would let Desmond sing instead. Annabella had a deep voice; it broke whenever she tried to sing a high note. Her musical talent was next to zero. Every other day Cinder listened to her blame Desmond's violin playing for her voice cracking.

"Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale."

Cinder sighed and went back to washing the cold floor beneath him. "Sing sweet nightingale," the blonde haired boy smiled as he sang along, "Sing sweet nightingale. Ahh-ahh-ah-ahhhh~"

Desmond's violin was audible just under Annabella's gruff voice. It was played beautifully, that violin.

"Sing sweet nightingale," Cinder continued singing. He swayed happily to the music as he worked.

At the top of the stairs, Luss sat, swishing his tail in time. The cat tilted his head to the side, listening curiously to the young boy's honey voice. Unthinkingly, the black fluff stepped down the stairs. His dark eyes were trained on Cinder as he sang. The cat stepped into a dustpan that Cinder had swept up earlier that day. Brown dust caked the cat's paws and left a grimy trail as he descended the stairs.

"Luss!" Cinder noticed the black cat leaving his dusty prints all over the stairs and down to where the boy sat, washing the floor. "Get out of here you cat!" Cinder threw the wet washcloth in his hand and the cat scurried away, leaving more dirt behind him.

Sighing, the blonde drug himself up to get the discarded cloth.

_Knock, knock, knock_

"Huh?"

Cinder looked over his shoulder at the dark wooden door.

_Knock, knock, knock_

"One moment please," he called as he hurried to answer the insistent knocking. Cinder opened the heavy wooden slab and there stood a very short man in exquisite clothing. He wore a powdered wig and a big, goofy smile. "For you my dear," he said, bowing and holding out an envelope. On it, the boy noticed the King's seal.

"Oh," Cinder exclaimed, "Thank you very much!"

The man nodded politely and turned, Cinder did the same, and then closed the door behind him.

The boy turned over the envelope in his hands.

"Sing sweet nightingale," Annabella's voice cracked.

_Well, _Cinder thought, _this looks important. I guess it'll be okay to interrupt their 'music lesson'. _So the boy went up the marble staircase, to the music room, and knocked hesitantly on the door.

In the room, Master Tremané sighed. That stupid little boy was always interrupting _something_. It wasn't always something important, but that boy always had to butt in.

In the corner of the room, Desmond stood like a carved stone statue. He lazily stroked his violin strings, producing little to no sound.

"Why does that boy always ruin everything," Annabella growled, pursing her lips and twirling a strand of dark red hair around her finger. "I was singing so well. I was really doing well that time. That pompous little boy always wants everyone's attention. Jeez we really should teach him better than that."

"You really don't sing very well, Annabella," Desmond rolled his eyes, "and we should really be teaching _you_ not to be such an arrogant girl."

"What did you say," Annabella shouted, "Father did you hear him!"

"Now now," their father shook his head, "remember children, above all else, self control."

Again, Cinder knocked on the door. The young boy's step father slammed his hands down on the piano he had been playing. "What!"

The boy with blue eyes stepped into the room slowly. "Um," he looked down and held out the envelope, "this came from the King."

"From the King!" Annabella rushed Cinder and snatched the envelope. As she retreated into the room, Desmond took it from her and opened it. "Hey! Give that back!" The red haired girl beat on Desmond's chest as he held it above his head, out of her reach.

"Desmond, give it here," Master Tremané held out his hand. The ashen haired man handed the letter to his father and watched him open it. Annabella stood to the side, anticipating the reading, and her brother stooped and looked over their father's shoulder.

Cinder stood in front of the door. He was waiting to be dismissed, but it seemed his step family was occupied in… other things. The boy was also curious to know what the letter said. Desmond glanced at Cinder, but decided to pay him no mind.

"A ball is being held tonight in honor of the Prince's return," Master Tremané read.

"A ball," Annabella exclaimed, throwing up her skinny arms, red curls bouncing. In her excitement, she threw her arms around her brother and spun him around. He pushed her away distastefully.

"Every eligible maiden is to attend," the master said loudly, "Wow this is great! Annabella you have to start getting ready!"

Desmond sighed, "Do you want me to attend, Father?

"Of course, dear son!"

Cinder perked up, "If Desmond goes, does that mean I can too?"

Annabella glared, "What makes you think you should go, wretch?"

"Well I just-"

"You can come, Cinder."

The boy gasped and looked at his step father. "Really?"

"Only if you get all your chores done," the older man nodded, "And you must find something suitable to wear."

"I will Step Father! Oh I will!"

Cinder ran out of the room, determined to go to the ball. His dream had always been to dance in the castle. To dance with the prince. Of course, the boy would understand if he couldn't dance with the prince, after all, they were both boys. But Cinder was determined to see the castle all the same.

"Father," Annabella whined, "why are you letting _him_ come?"

"I am also curious as to why," Desmond added.

"I said _**if**_ he gets all his chores done," Master Tremané said, "Plus, that boy will never find anything suitable to wear!"

"Oh," Annabella laughed darkly, "I see."

Desmond went back to playing his violin.

Downstairs, Cinder scrubbed away at the floor, more determined than he ever had been in all his 17 years of life.


	5. Getting Ready

"Well," Cinder said to himself as he took out his father's old suit, the one his father had worn to fancy parties. "It's kind of old fashioned," Cinder criticized, "But it will do just fine. I hope it fits."

The suit was dark blue and the sleeves rolled up to sport a darker blue inside. Cuff links held the sleeves together. They were a wonderful polished brown. The front of the jacket folded over and buttoned up with double buttons, sixteen in all, each a beautiful wood brown polished to perfection, same as the cuff links. The collar turned over, flashing the same darker blue as the sleeves. There were white ruffles for around the boy's neck and dark brown boots that were supposed to end just under his knees.

"Father had such large feet," Cinder smiled and set the boots aside, pulling out the light brown trousers and black knee high socks.

"Cinder! Cinder! Cinder!"

The blonde boy looked over his shoulder at the door of his little attic room. It was only open just a crack, but Annabella's voice reverberated up the winding stairs until it echoed around Cinder's wooden room. He let out a tired sigh and a weary smile as he picked himself up off the floor.

"I'll be there in a minute step sister," the boy said as if she could hear him. Cinder draped his father's jacket over the back of his shabby chair and folded an undershirt to set on the seat. The trousers were folded and set on top of the shirt, socks laid neatly on top of it all. The boots stood at the chair's feet. "I can't wait to try it all on," Cinder beamed, "I can't wait to go to that ball."

He heard his name again from downstairs and so he went.

"Annabella?"

The girl turned to glare, "What is taking you so long? I have a ball to get ready for, you know!"

_I also have to get ready... _Cinder's thought heaved a sigh out of him. _Eventually I'll get back to that suit. _

"Come on, come on," Annabella exclaimed, "Take those dresses up to my room!" She was pointing to a stack of elegant red and pink and gold gowns. She had tossed out all the green ones and blue ones. She claimed the contrast of her hair and the fabric was too ugly.

Cinder grabbed the dresses and headed to his step sister's room. He dumped them ungraciously on her bed. There were so many, they were so heavy. He counted them, fifteen in all. Why did she need so many? The whole of her room was a mess, her beloved gowns strung all over the furniture. Cinder hardly had any clothes to strew across his room and make a mess with. He sighed.

"Okay get out now," she yelled and pushed him out. "I'll call you when I'm done. I'll need help fixing my hair and tightening my dress.

"Yes step-sister," Cinder left her room with a curt nod.

_What chores do I still need to do? _Cinder stared out the window at the town below his chateau home. Faces rushed by, they all looked the same to him. They were all dressed in browns and blacks and grays. _I wonder if they're going to the ball as well…_

"Cinder," Desmond's voice cam softly from behind the boy and he felt a finger tug playfully at his blonde hair before it quickly retreated.

"Step-brother," Cinder smiled shyly at him. He knew Desmond to do playful things like this sometimes, when he was bored or when he was feeling nice.

"Could you help me choose something to wear?"

"Oh, of course," Cinder said, following his step brother to his room.

Three fashionable sets of clothing were set out on the green bed sheets. They all had a vest, knee length black trousers, and a white undershirt. The jackets coordinated with the vests, as did the shoes.

A light gray vest made of silk and stitched with green thread in a flowering pattern sat atop a white undershirt. The matching shoes were boots of dark green like the stitching on the vest. The jacket was black and had dark green stitching around the pockets. The cuff links were a dull gray to match the vest also.

Cinder knew right away that Desmond should wear this.

It was his perfect color and it would fit his frame better than the other clothing. The other two sets were variations of the green one. There was a purple stitched vest that would go down to Desmond's hips, no doubt. Maybe even past them. It was black. The other one had orange and brown stitching and long sleeves that had ruffles at the end.

"Is there one you fancy," Cinder asked

"Not particularly," was Desmond's reply. He watched Cinder criticize each set of clothing, carefully run his fingers along the fabric, inspect the boots. It was usually only about looks for parties, but for a party at the castle, quality should also be measured. Sadly, the orange one was highest quality.

"I think the green one would look best on you," said the blonde haired boy hesitantly, "but, just so you know, the orange one has the highest quality fabric and design."

Desmond was silent, contemplating a decision. He threw the purple set over his bed. "You like the green one?"

"… I think it'll look good on you."

"I'll wear that one then. Thank you, Cinder."

"Of course Desmond, anytime."

Annabella burst into her brother's room, "Cinder! You're supposed to be helping me, twerp!"

"I'm done with him anyway," Desmond growled, "Take him away."

The red haired girl stuck her tongue out at her brother and laughed, grabbing Cinder by the arm and dragging him after her. "I can't wait for this ball! I'm going to dance with the prince, eat 'til I burst, and dance with the prince some more. I'll be the loveliest girl at the ball! The prince will have to fall in love with me!"

Cinder couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He wished he could dance with the prince at the ball.

The ball that he may or may not make it to tonight.


	6. The Ball

It was dark out by the time guests began arriving at the ball. There were many beautiful young women, a couple strapping young men, all mingling and enjoying themselves as they awaited their introduction with the prince.

Said prince was yawning in disdain. He tried to politely cover it, but he wanted his father to know how he felt. The prince knew what this party was _really_ for. Although his father loved throwing parties and would do such for almost any occasion, the prince realized that he was coming of age to be wed. He knew his father wanted grandchildren before he died. But the prince just couldn't oblige.

A woman was introduced and the prince bowed politely. When she turned back to the party, the prince instantly forgot her. He tousled his black hair out of its gently combed posture. He hated feeling dressed up like a doll. He had voiced this once when he was feeling rebellious, to which the King replied, "Women love dolls!" That shut the boy up. But it got him thinking: A man coming of age should do what he wants! But instead he was stuck at dull parties with his hair all brushed up. The prince ran his fingers through his hair again, knocking it out of place.

The prince's dark eyes strayed over the crowd here in honor of his return to the kingdom, the crowd here in hopes to become royalty. His eyes skipped over the delicate faces of every woman in the room. They were beautiful, gorgeous, but they were like the dolls he had left behind in his childhood. He had no interest in the powder dusted china of a woman's face, but instead the sharp chin and slightly hard eyes of a man. He scanned their visages now, but was disappointed to see that they were mostly just dusty old men.

In the corner of the room the prince noticed a family of three, waiting their turn for introductions. An older man and his two children. The prince's eyes wandered over the woman, so strikingly beautiful, and yet so devastatingly ugly in the way she presented herself. Her red hair had a perfect natural curl, her gold and red dress brought out her skin tone perfectly. The man standing next to her had to be her brother, for they had the same eyes. His hair was gray, though not from old age. It could almost be called black. Behind him was their father, stoic face, scrutinizing eyes, perfect posture. The prince found himself marveling at how beautiful they all looked.

Dragging his eyes away, the prince was introduced to a couple more guests. He swiped his bangs out of his eyes. He smiled kindly at everyone. He glared at his father when the king seemed deserving.

And then he was introduced to Annabella Tremané, the beautiful red head. She was uglier up close. She was arrogant, conceited, and smug. The prince quickly excused himself to meet her father. Master Tremané was intimidating, to say the least. He glared at everything, sizing it up. When the prince bowed, he hardly bowed back. He was staring at the prince's disheveled hair.

And then the prince introduced himself to the son. He was wearing gray stitched with green. He could have picked something of higher quality, but what he wore now brought out the absolute beauty in his shining green eyes.

"Desmond Tremané," he said in a low voice and bowed slightly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Please," the prince grinned, "the pleasure is all mine."

Desmond's eyes narrowed and he straightened his jacket before politely excusing himself.

_I wonder is the prince is like me,_ Desmond thought, _and if he is, I'm glad Cinder didn't come tonight. That guy seems like the predator type, the type that would try to steal _my _prey._


	7. Silver Magic

Cinder sat on his bed, knees curled tightly into his small chest. He sniffled and wiped away the tears as soon as they appeared.

"What am I even crying for," he sniveled and got up angrily to look out the window at the white marble castle. He stretched his legs. They were stiff from sitting so long with them curled up. The boy let his tears fall like a torrential rain from his blue eyes as he watched guests enter the palace. "Look at all of them. They're all going to be so bored. I bet that ball is absolutely dull and un-interesting and…" Cinder wiped his dripping nose on his coat sleeve. He had managed to slip on his father's suit right as his step family left without him. Cinder couldn't finish. He knew the ball would be absolutely glorious.

He didn't think he could cry any harder.

Cinder ran out of his room. He had to flee from that beautiful, festive castle scene outside his window. He ran down the wooden stairs, down the stone stairs, to the glass door in the back leading to the garden. He flung it open so fast that he tripped right into the mud. His father's beautiful blue suit was now brown. But Cinder just stood and kept running until he came to the lone stone bench that stood in the middle of the garden. He flung himself across it, weeping pitifully into his arms.

"There's nothing left for me now," he cried, "Why is my life like this!"

"Oh dear, it's not as bad as you think."

"It's terrible! I wanted to go to this ball more than anything!" Cinder cried and cried.

"At least you still have some hope," a gentle hand patted Cinder's tangled blonde hair, "I'll help you dear."

Cinder recoiled immediately at the sudden physical contact. "Who are you!" The boy couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the other person. They had snuck up on him so suddenly. The young boy looked closer at the stranger and realized it was an older looking lady, her eyes covered by a sparkling periwinkle cloak, tied with a dark red ribbon. She had beautiful white hair tied in a side braid running down her left shoulder.

The strange woman stood up, "Child, dearest, you don't remember me?"

"Not in the slightest. I'm sure I would remember someone who sparkles the way you do."

The stranger smiled, "You're just as cute as always."

Cinder was curious. How did this woman know him? What was she talking about, helping him? Having hope?

"Who are you?" Cinder shrunk back away from her and stood up, ready to run again.

"Oh sweet child," the woman smiled gently, "I'm your fairy godmother."

Before Cinder could protest, before he could utter a single word of disbelief, the woman held out her hand, palm facing flat upwards. Silver sparks danced out of her hand, there was a bright flash, and out of her open palm, the stranger pulled out a polished white wand. She closed her palm and the silver sparks of magic disappeared.

The boy's blue eyes widened. "Wow," he gasped, "A real fairy…"

"Now child," the fairy godmother wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "What were you crying about? What do you need?

"I was upset because… I really want to go to the ball, but I can't." Cinder remembered his despair from earlier.

"Can't go to the ball?" The fairy shook her head, "Nonsense. I'll get you to that ball, my dear, just you watch!"

Cinder was overwhelmed with joy, "You will? Really?" The boy had his hope back. He no longer cried, his face held a faithful smile.

The fairy smiled, radiating warmth, "Now, the first thing you'll need is…"

Cinder looked down at his muddy clothes. He was most worried about those. Would he have to wash them or would the fairy give him new clothes? He looked up at her expectantly.

"Oh! There's a pumpkin!"

A pumpkin? Cinder stared at the fairy, confused. "Why do you need a pumpkin?"

"Well just you watch, dear," the fairy godmother smiled and winked at him. She held up her wand and pointed it at the pumpkin. "Bippitty," the fairy smiled, "boppitty," she laughed, "boo!"

Silver sparks erupted from her fingers, from the wand, and swirled all around the pumpkin. They enveloped it completely and sent it bouncing across the garden, onto the little driveway out. By the time it was there, it was no longer a pumpkin, but a beautiful white carriage, trimmed with gold and red. On the door was a golden 'C'. The interior was red cushions and curtains.

Cinder gaped in wonder. A carriage! A beautiful, beautiful carriage! It was so hard to believe this was real! Was he dreaming? He pinched himself, he felt awake. It had to be real; he had to believe in this miracle.

The old gray horse in the barn next to the garden whinnied. He knew the carriage meant pleasurable work.

The fairy godmother smiled slyly at him. "We'll need mice," she giggled. "I'm sure there are tons around here somewhere."

With the flick of her wrist and a shot of sparkling magic, four mice were suddenly turned into four marvelous white horses. They each had golden headdresses with red plumage on the top. They were absolutely surreal. Cinder stared in wonder.

"You have a dog, don't you," the fairy godmother asked, looking around.

"Yes," Cinder replied hesitantly.

"Will you call him? We'll need him for this."

Cinder looked around the garden, but he couldn't find Bern. He called the dog's name: "Bern! Bern, come here boy!"

There was a short pause, and then the scritch-scratch of claws against stone and the padding of running paws could be heard. As soon as the dog was in sight, he was enveloped by silver sparks and bounced over to where the pumpkin carriage stood with the four waiting mouse-horses. When Bern arrived by the carriage, Cinder gasped in surprise. Bern was a human! A little man, about as tall as Cinder, but middle aged.

"Bern?"

The little man was looking himself over. He smiled up at Cinder and stuck out his hand. They shook hands. "This is amazing!" Cinder smiled in wonderment.

"Bern will be your footman tonight. And now for your horse!" The fairy godmother pointed at the barn. Again, she shot her silver magic. The horse bounced his way to the carriage, right into the driver's seat. He was now a man too! He waved at Cinder and the little boy waved back, his mouth slightly agape.

"Take your places, men," the fairy godmother laughed. They scrambled into their positions and Cinder swore he even saw the horses straightening themselves up.

"Fairy Godmother," Cinder wiped the small tears of happiness from his face, "I don't know how I could ever thank you for all this."

"There's no need to, dear," she smiled, "But ohhhh I'm not done yet! Look at yourself! You can't go to the ball looking like that!"

Cinder had forgotten about his clothes. He looked down in embarrassment at them.

"Hmm," his godmother walked around him, "Let's take your size," she elongated her wand around him, making note of his measurements, "And the shade of your eyes, a beautiful blue. Oh this'll be fun!"

The fairy took a deep breath and then let the magic flow gently. It landed over Cinder like a cotton blanket. He felt like he was being scrubbed with warm water, he felt like he was rolling in freshly washed sheets on a luxury bed, he felt like he was suspended in a cloud. He watched the magic float around him; he closed his eyes in sheer happiness.

When he opened them, the magic was gone. He was fully clothed in the most beautiful set of clothing he had ever seen. He wandered over to the fountain to marvel in his moonlight reflection. His hair looked freshly washed, combed and set. All the bags under his eyes were gone and he felt renewed.

"Now dear," the fairy said hesitantly, "My magic only works until the last chime of midnight."

"Midnight," Cinder gushed, "Thank you! That's wonderful!"

"Now now, child," the fairy persisted, "You need to understand that once the final toll of midnight sounds, all will be as it was before."

Cinder dashed to hug his fairy godmother. He was so indescribably happy. "Thank you," he mumbled into her cloak, "This is more than I had ever dreamed."

The fairy godmother stroked Cinder's hair affectionately. "Now child," she hurried, "You've no time to waste!" She ushered Cinder towards the carriage. Before getting in, the boy turned and kissed her aging cheek, "Thank you again, Fairy Godmother."

The fairy watched Cinder drive away in the carriage. He waved to her and then he was gone. She reached up to where he had pecked her cheek and held her hand there lovingly, "I wish I could've done more for him…"


	8. Red Waltz

The prince bowed again at the woman in front of him. She smiled politely and walked away. He couldn't remember her name.

The guests seemed to all be at the ball by now. Desmond wandered from table to table with his father. "See anyone you're interested in," the master whispered, nudging his son's elbow. Desmond withheld a sigh, but couldn't manage to avoid rolling his eyes. "I'm already interested in someone, father," Desmond said quietly so that the other guests wouldn't hear, "I don't need to be looking for a wife."

"Oh Desmond," Master Tremané shouted in excitement, "Who is she? Why haven't we met?" He did a fainting motion with his hand, "Who could this beautiful woman be, to have stolen my son's frozen heart?"

"Maybe I will introduce the two of you someday, if you stop acting like a child."

"Desmond," the older man smiled, "It's because I'm a parent. I'm allowed to act this way."

The prince floated by the father and son, stealing a glance at Desmond. The two locked eyes. Again Desmond thought, _Thank God Cinder isn't here._

The prince just couldn't help himself. Among all the names, all the faces, he remembered Desmond's. The prince knew it was simply based on looks, that he was a sucker for the other man's green eyes and lovely face.

The music playing was light because the prince himself was not on the dance floor, but people still wanted to dance. Women left and right stared holes in the prince's head, a burning passion that they each possessed solely for him. He did not want _their_ passion.

The music stopped for a moment, the musicians were taking a break. That's when the prince saw _him_, walking nimbly up the stairs, staring incredulously at everything around him. The boy looked like he was thirteen, but the prince prayed that he was older. Never before had he seen anyone- neither man nor woman- more beautiful than the lost boy in front of him now.

He had blue eyes like sapphires in the sun; they could be seen all the way across the ball room. His hair was like bronze and gold, curled in some places, like a child's, straight like an adult's in others. His pink lips formed the smallest pout as he wondered at the marvels of the castle. The blush on his cheeks looked like that of a young woman. He had many feminine features, the prince noted. His hips swayed when he walked, his eyelashes were long and curled to perfection, his legs were thin and womanly, his feet were small and absolutely dainty.

The prince wandered towards the boy, drawn to him in complete awe. A couple women leaned towards the boy as well as he hesitantly made his way to the ballroom.

The boy was dressed in the most fitting clothes that complimented his naturally angelic face absolutely. His coat was black and ended just above his ankles. The shoulders of it had a slight puff and then they tightened down to his wrists before they folded around to form large white cuffs, almost to his elbow. The cuff links were simple obsidian, buttoned all the way down the cuffs themselves, which were white. The collar of the coat was large and white, folded down the boy's neck like rested bat wings. White ruffles lay around the boy's neck under the coat, tucked into a dark blue vest. The vest, what could be seen of it, was dark blue with a hidden pocket on each side and a single button that held the vest together. It just met the pant line before ending in points. The pants the boy wore were simply an elegant black, complimented by his shiny black dress shoes. A hint of red contrasted the blue in the boy's clothes and in his eyes, but no one was sure where the red came from or what it was. A ribbon around his neck, perhaps.

The music began to play and the boy disappeared in the sudden crowd. The prince saw Desmond glaring in the direction the boy had been before he was swallowed by the crowd.

The prince searched frantically, but calmly so as not to arouse suspicion. He wanted that boy. His fair face had the prince the second he laid his gaze on it.

The boy was dancing with a young woman in a pink and blue dress. The prince spotted him just as Desmond did. The ashen haired man wasn't positive, but he was sure he knew the young blonde boy from somewhere. The beauty had something familiar about him, and Desmond would be bothered if he couldn't find out what.

The two men rushed for the boy, who was whisked away by another starry-eyed woman. He had a whole line waiting for him, dance after dance.

Master Tremané noticed the attention this boy was stealing and wanted to see him. The grown man peeked over other on-lookers and waiting women. The boy had to be someone from a town nearby, or maybe he had moved from overseas, because Master Tremané could swear he'd never seen him before.

Desmond whispered to his father, "That boy doesn't look familiar to you, does he?"

"No, I don't think so," Master Tremané began, but then the boy swung past, leading the girl. His eyes were closed with happiness and his smile was stretching his face to fit. "Maybe there is something familiar about him," the master changed his mind.

The song ended and the boy excused himself. The women waiting smiled at him understandingly and trickled away to dance with other people. The blue eyed boy sat down in one of the few chairs available and ran a hand through his blonde locks. The smile on his face hadn't faded.

The prince jumped on this opportunity. He slid into a chair across from the boy. "Are you enjoying your time," the prince asked casually. The boy merely glanced at him. His blue eyes were too busy taking in the castle walls and the faces of all the guests. "I've never been to a place more beautiful than this," the boy smiled.

"Would you like to see more of it?"

The music stopped.

The prince smiled at the boy.

"There's more than this," the boy gazed in wonder all around him, "How…"

The prince stood, "You see the red curtain over there? If you sneak out there, I'll meet you and show you the whole castle." The prince realized how suspicious he sounded, but he _had _to have some alone time with this fallen angel.

"Are you sure that's allowed?" The boy looked a bit worried, but his eyes held undeniable curiosity.

"Of course it is," the prince reassured, "Now hurry along. I'll be out there shortly."

The boy glanced around, then stood and smiled at the prince, all his teeth shining and his eyes closed in appreciation, "Thank you."

The prince smiled his first real smile of the night. As he watched the boy's retreating back, he thought of what child-like innocence that face upheld. When that face disappeared behind the thick red curtain at the end of the room, the prince made his way to the musicians. He told them to play the waltz as loudly as they could. As the prince went to meet the boy, the music started.


	9. Running Away

Behind the curtain, Cinder stared up at the stars.

He was outside in the courtyard. The night was sparkling all around him. He felt weightless. The butterflies in his stomach were from sheer happiness. He could still hardly believe the events of the night. He had met his fairy godmother, been whisked away to the ball, the castle of his dreams, and now a kind man was risking trouble to show him the palace. Cinder couldn't believe such a miracle could happen, and he was fully expecting to wake up any moment.

Rustling came from behind the curtain, which looked gray in the moonlight, and out stepped the man Cinder was waiting for. His gelled black hair was ruffled by hands, his brown eyes were kindly, and his attire was fit for a prince.

"The night is beautiful, isn't it," the man sighed wistfully and took Cinder's hand.

"Y-Yes, it really is." Cinder thought the contact was sudden, it wasn't harsh, but he pulled away even so.

"Won't you dance with me in this lovely night air," the man leaned down and whispered in Cinder's ear. The words sent shivers down the boy's spine, but the good kind of shiver that makes you excited.

"Is that why we left the ballroom," Cinder asked.

"Precisely," the man responded and pulled Cinder close until their bodies were pressed against one another. Cinder took the woman's role and the man put a hand on his dainty hip, the other hand held the boy's. Cinder reached up hesitantly before placing his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Do you know the waltz?"

Cinder nodded, unable to speak. If only this was the prince! Cinder's fantasy would be absolutely complete. The waltz wafted from behind the curtain.

The two danced.

"Why are you so willing for this," the man asked quietly, "Is it because of my position."

_Position?_ Cinder wondered. "What position are you in, sir?"

The man halted. He continued holding Cinder close, but he had stopped dancing. "You mean you don't know," the man started incredulously, that I'm-"

The grand clock in front of the castle interrupted what the man was going to say. It began to toll midnight.

"No, it's that time already," Cinder cried and began to take off towards the nearest exit. "I need to go!"

The prince reached after Cinder and managed to grab his wrist. "Please don't go," he begged, twirling Cinder back towards him and holding him tightly in his broad chest. "Please don't. I want to know you."

A rush of tears swept up to Cinder's eyes.

"What is your name?"

"They call me Cinder."

The prince looked at the boy, confused.

The boy looked at the man he thought was just a guest at the party. "I'm sorry sir, I have to go!"

The prince didn't want to let Cinder go. He pulled his chin up and kissed him, deeply, for just a slit second before the boy ran. The prince stepped after him, stepping on his shoe and causing it to slip off. The boy's small white glove also slipped off unexpectedly.

Cinder glanced back at the prince, but didn't stop to pick up his things. He kept running. He went through the ballroom, down the grand stairs, through the grand hall, out the big entrance doors and right into his waiting carriage. As he fled the castle, Cinder looked back and saw the prince standing outside the entrance, watching him leave.

"I can't believe that," Cinder smiled while the tears flooded over his cheeks. He was so happy to have danced all night and to have been so lucky, but it was all over now. The carriage turned to a pumpkin on the last stroke of midnight, as the fairy had foretold. The magnificent white horses turned to mice again. Cinder's clothes turned back to the muddy ones they had been before.

They boy continued smiling through his tears. He was lucky to have gotten what he had. He was happy to have lived such a beautiful dream-come-true.

When he stood up, Cinder noticed there was a shoe left on his foot, a glass shoe, to be precise. It looked just as his shiny dress shoes had, and yet it was glass. "This is so odd…"

Off a little ways, the boy noticed a little glass glove. He smiled. "Thank you, Fairy Godmother. Thank you."

Back at the castle, the prince wandered aimlessly around the ball. Everyone had gone about the party normally after Cinder had dashed out. They thought he had harassed the prince, and the nobleman had chased him out, and so they went on normally.

But the king, sitting high up in his throne, knew that was not the case. He had seen everything that had happened in the courtyard between the young blonde beauty and his beloved son. What was he to do now?


	10. Innocence

The sun shone through the attic window. Cinder's muddy clothes from the night prior lay at the foot of his bed in a jumbled heap. The boy himself was sleeping happily in his bed, tired from last night's events, drunk on the prince's kiss, and so badly wanting to stay in bed and relive last night over and over in his dreams.

He opened his blue eyes slowly, staring at the old wooden ceiling over his head. He imagined the beautiful marble ceilings of the castle hanging over him when he woke up. He sighed wistfully. That night had made him even more hopeful, even more determined, to make his dreams come true. He thought he could give it up after he went to the ball, but he had the time of his life, dancing and eating and being free from his step family.

The clock chimed seven.

"Time to get up," Cinder sang happily, "I'm late, better get on with my dayyyy!"

He dressed quickly in his house clothes, washed his face and raced happily down the stairs.

The boy felt a rush every time he thought of the ball. His heart beat faster with the image of the dark haired man he had danced with. _What is this feeling,_ the boy pondered, _what is this racing feeling in my chest? _

Everything went by in a blur, Cinder felt like things were going on without him. The chores did themselves, the animals found their own feed for the day, the breakfast was made by some kind of magic.

Sometime in the afternoon, Cinder was humming to himself, doing the dusting in the hall near the bedrooms.

Desmond watched the little boy dance and hum to himself. The ashen haired man narrowed his eyes at Cinder's tune. He knew it from last night, but how could Cinder? It was a song played purely at the ball in the castle. Suddenly, the step brother had a realization. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open with a gasp. _**Cinder! The beautiful, angelic boy from the ball last night was Cinder!**_

Desmond's eyes still felt wide, but he otherwise composed himself. There was going to be trouble. Cinder should not have gone to the ball. He had been left behind to finish his chores. Desmond remembered the prince leaving to the courtyard last night, and Desmond couldn't find the mysterious blonde boy anywhere during that time, though he had searched. Had they met together out there? Jealousy whelmed inside Desmond. The prince?

"Cinder!" Desmond called out to his young step brother. "Come here," anger was etched in Desmond's face; it wouldn't go away, no matter how much effort he pushed it with.

Cinder looked up from his chore and smiled, "What do you need, Desmond?"

"I need you to go to my room, right now," Desmond felt like he was going to punch a hole through a wall.

Cinder's eyes widened as he noticed the look on Desmond's face. It was so twisted, like he needed something to break. It had been a long time ago when Cinder had seen this expression last. At the wedding of Desmond's and Annabella's father to Cinder's mother, that's where the blue eyed boy had seen this expression, as Desmond watched the smiling faces of their parents together.

"Cinder," Desmond glared.

The boy scurried into Desmond's room. What could he have done to deserve the look Desmond was giving him? He had all his chores done; he had given Desmond's clothes back, neatly folded, early this morning. He hadn't forgotten anything, had he? The boy ran a hand over his face, his whole mind was a mess thanks to last night. Cinder's eyes widened. Had Desmond figured out that he had been at the ball?

The door to Desmond's room slammed. Master Tremané had gone out with Annabella for the shopping today. It was good or else he would have yelled at Cinder for allowing the doors to slam.

The blonde boy held tightly onto his feather duster. What would he do if Desmond really knew? Should he lie? Should he be rebellious? Should he be mad? Should he admit that he did go? Should he throw himself on the ground and beg for forgiveness?

"I knew there was something familiar about that face," Desmond was mumbling.

The older step brother was pacing. Cinder watched him worriedly.

"You went to the ball last night, Cinder."

The boy thought his eyes were going to spring forth from their sockets and fall to the ground with the pure shock of such a blunt statement.

Cinder did the first thing he could think of. He lied. "Dear step-brother," he stuttered a bit, "Whatever are you talking about?"

Desmond drew closer. He ripped the feather duster that Cinder was clutching so fearfully out of the boy's hands and tossed it behind him. "I know that was you," Desmond said, "That frightened expression on your face right now is the same one you wore last night when you entered the ballroom."

"Desmond," Cinder stammered, "You must be mistaken!"

The ashen haired man ran his fingers along Cinder's delicate chin. His gaze had softened and now held some kind of affection, some kind of warped lust.

"You were so striking last night," Desmond murmured, leaning towards a petrified Cinder and whispering in his ear, "Just as you have been every day since I've met you."

"S-Striking," Cinder hesitantly repeated the word, "R-Really?"

"Oh," Desmond smiled against Cinder's neck, "So are you saying it was you?"

"N-No! Absolutely not," Cinder defended, "I would never defy step-father like that!"

The blonde boy took a step back. Desmond was getting suddenly intimate. Blue eyes scoured the room, the boy had to look anywhere but at his advancing step-brother. The curtains were drawn, making the room gloomy on such an unseasonably bright day. Cinder avoided Desmond's narrowed eyes.

The man wouldn't let Cinder get away. He couldn't seem to stop himself. His calm state of self control was suddenly shattered in this dim room. In this house where there was no one but himself and the one he wants most in the world. "Cinder, do you realize how badly, all these years… All these years I have wanted this." Desmond leaned in closer again.

Wide blue eyes graced Cinder's face as he tried to avoid his step-brother, "Desmond, I don't know what you're talking about. Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"

A small hand touched Desmond's forehead for reassurance. It wasn't hot with a fever, so Cinder's step-brother wasn't delusional. The older man grabbed Cinder's wrist and pulled it to his lips. He placed a kiss gently on one of the boy's finger tips.

Immediately Cinder pulled his hand away from his step brother. "I have to get back to my chores!" The boy scrambled around his step brother to pick up his feather duster. Desmond wasn't about to stop. He grabbed Cinder's wrist and threw him onto the gray and green sheets of his luxurious bed. The golden trimmed pillows that used to have a lustrous sheen were now dull and ugly in Cinder's eyes.

"Desmond, stop this right now!"

Cinder tried to get up, but the ashen haired man was on him in a second. "I saw you leave with the prince," Desmond mumbled into Cinder's neck, placing delicate kisses along it, "You can't even begin to imagine my jealousy."

"The prince," Cinder struggled against Desmond's body, "I never met the prince last night!"

Cinder thought incredulously, had he met the prince? Had that dark-haired man really been the prince? A whole new light was shining on Cinder's dream night.

"So you admit to being there," Desmond slid his hands down Cinder's body, bringing the boy back to reality, "I knew it was you."

"Desmond, stop this," Cinder said sternly and pushed the older man's hands away. "Let me get back to my work."

But the older step-brother didn't listen. He continued to run his long fingers over the pale skin on Cinder's stomach and chest. The little boy squirmed. "Desmond stop."

But still the man continued, grasping Cinder's chin and pulling the boy into a wet kiss. Cinder's eyes were wide open in the complete and utter surprise. Desmond's kiss was rough and demanding. He pushed Cinder down farther into the green sheets and dove his fingers into the young boy's pants.

"Desmond! What are you doing!" Cinder leapt up as much as he could. He wanted desperately to get away, to run from Desmond and the gray-green room that he would never be able to look at the same. "Desmond stop this!"

"I'm afraid I can't," Desmond trembled, "I want to hear you screaming my name, Cinder. I want to feel your body against mine, I want to know, and I want to touch, every inch of you."

Cinder pushed as hard as he could, he shoved Desmond away to no avail. The man with ash colored hair would not be hindered. But Cinder did not give up his hope of escape. He was sweating under his clothes. The room seemed to grow hotter by the second, more stuffy, more dangerous.

Desmond leaned in again and kissed Cinder for a second time.

The young boy broke it, "Desmond stop! I don't want this! Please, let me go! I won't tell anyone what you've tried here!"

The smirk that crawled across Desmond's lips made Cinder's heart stop. The boy's blood ran icily cold despite the heat he was feeling just seconds ago. "Cinder, I'm going to finish what I've started here. You can't stop me; _no one _is going to stop me. And when I'm done with you, you won't tell a soul."

Cinder screamed for dear life. That devil's face stayed planted in place as Desmond tore through the thin fabric of Cinder's shirt. "Desmond **STOP**!" Cinder pushed and screamed. Desmond leaned in for another kiss, Cinder bit his lip and the man pulled back in amazement. The little boy under him kicked and continued fighting. Desmond kissed Cinder again with renewed vigor. Cinder kicked harder.

Down slipped his pants. Desmond's belt buckle came undone.

Tears were spilled.

And the little boy's innocence was robbed.


	11. Dreams

The floor underneath him felt like a cold stone slab. The air that hung around him held the stench of anguish and despair. The boy's skin was rubbed red, but no matter how much he scrubbed, the unclean feeling on him never left.

The tears that had flowed for hours were drying like a stream in hot summer sun. His face was red with fever.

Downstairs, he could hear the sounds of a collective dinner. Two neighboring families had joined Master Tremané for dinner tonight. They sat in the dining room, laughing, oblivious to the broken body upstairs, shriveled in the dark attic. Alone.

Cinder knew, in this situation, like every other, he would be alone. His step-father wouldn't listen to him, Annabella would scream at him, and if the police were to get involved, Desmond would deny everything. Loneliness was his only companion, and the young boy was beginning to know loneliness well.

He didn't light any candles. The curtains were closed, blocking out any moonlight. He found the darkness comforting. Cinder didn't want to see his room, his bed, his clothes, the remains of his happy, innocent life. _Where was that life_, he wondered abruptly, _what had happened to it?_

Cinder crawled into his ironed white sheets, the cleanliness of them not making Cinders body feel any more pure. He curled into a fetal position, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. _What is happening now? _Cinder closed his eyes and curled tighter, _what do I do now?_

After crying for hours, the boy's feverishness had finally set in. Once Cinder's eyes were shut, his problems were gone and his dreams took over. He couldn't think of what had happened, he _wouldn't _think of what had happened. Of what Desmond had done to him.

Cinder just thought of sleep, of a sky white with clouds. Cinder thought briefly of his night with the man at the ball. The man that Desmond had called the prince. Cinder whimpered when he remembered the result of the night with that man, of what had happened afterwards. Of what Desmond…

The sharp pain ran through Cinder again at the thought.

_Just sleep,_ the boy told himself, _just sleep and everything will be okay. _

_Okay… what did it mean to be 'okay'?_


	12. Going to Town

The clock tower struck seven.

Cinder rolled over in his bed, dreary, groggy from sleeping with tears. His mind was befuddled; he took a moment to gather his surroundings. On the floor lay his clothes, muddied before his dream night at the ball. On the floor lay his clothes, torn by the hands of his dear step-brother. Cinder's chest constricted, the new pain that was ever present with the thought of Desmond wracked him.

_To be okay,_ Cinder idly thought of his inner question he had so bluntly screamed in his mind at whoever could answer, though no one had. _To be okay, to be okay… To be okay is to live with this. I'm going to be okay if I can just move from this, move and never look back. To be okay is to think of other things. The prince, the castle, the dance. I can be okay. _

A service bell was ringing downstairs, demanding the little blonde boy's presence.

Cinder hoped it wasn't Desmond's.

The knife in his stomach lurched.

OoOoOo

Downstairs in the darkness of the kitchen, Cinder made breakfast as usual. He heard bustling in the hall just outside. The clock had just struck seven, why was his step family awake at this time?

"Annabella! Come downstairs this instant! _Desmond_ is awake down here and what I need to say is hardly relevant to him." Master Tremané called exasperatedly to his daughter.

"I don't see why it can't wait for _later,_ Father," Annabella shouted back.

"It's about the prince," Master Tremané sang, knowing his daughter would take interest.

And that she did. There was a loud thump and then the sound of scurrying feet. Annabella appeared at the top of the stairs, still in her nightgown, hair unkempt. "The prince?" She stared at her father questioningly.

"Come down here, my sweet. Let's all talk about it over breakfast," Master Tremané smiled an unusual, genuine smile. "Cinder, is it ready?"

The blonde boy poked his head out of the kitchen, "When you are, Step-Father."

"Good, bring it to the family dining room, please," the man nodded and headed for said room. Before he turned the corner he added, "Cinder, you may join us, also, if you like."

The blonde boy stared after his step father. He was being mildly kind this morning. What could have happened to make him this way? Maybe it was that thing with the prince?

_The prince…_ Cinder sighed wistfully. He still wanted to reflect fondly on his night at the castle, with the man he danced the waltz, the man that most certainly, Cinder's mind wanted to believe, was the prince.

Annabella dashed to meet her father in the dining room and Desmond was behind her by a lot, sauntering casually.

The red haired girl disappeared around the corner.

For a moment, Cinder was frightened. He and Desmond were alone together. The boy's heart rate quickened and sweat beaded slightly on his forehead. The spoon he had been holding was now an option if the need for a weapon arose. Desmond passed by without a word, seemingly in slow motion. Cinder watched him, the eyes of an alarmed mouse.

And then the older turned slightly, reached out with his slender arms, and rested a hand on Cinder's pale cheek.

The blue eyed boy whimpered upon contact with the fingers that had scarred him. Desmond caressed Cinder's face, watching with delicate eyes as the little boy cringed away. The older step brother let his hand slowly drop away. Without a word, he disappeared as his sister had.

A sob wracked Cinder's whole body. The young one dropped to his knees, clutching his spoon to his chest.

_To be okay, to be okay, to be okay, to be okay, to be okay, _Cinder repeated in his mind. He wiped his nose on his hand and cleared his face of tears. He took a deep breath and shakily stood up. "Breakfast has to be served," Cinder's voice cracked a bit. "Okay."

He piled the food onto the trays and headed out of the kitchen. To the dining room, where he would sit with his step family and they would all eat breakfast together for the first time since Cinder's mother died.

"Oh Cinder thank you so much, child," Master Tremané smiled again, "Come sit and eat with us, come on, come on."

After handing breakfast to each person, Cinder took his own and sat at the table next to Annabella, as far from Desmond as possible.

The awkward family sat and ate in silence for a moment, each expecting the another to break the quiet. It was Annabella that finally did:

"Father! Tell me what it is about the prince! I'm dying to know!"

A grin crept onto her father's face, "The prince is in our town, looking for the girl he wants to marry."

"What?" Annabella gasped. Desmond stiffened at mention of the prince. Cinder felt green eyes burning into him from the other side of the table, but he didn't look up to meet them. He just stared fixedly at his food and listened in on what his step father was saying.

"It's all over the streets! Last night, the prince fell in love. They say the woman was beautiful, dressed in blue, a real vision. The prince fell for her instantaneously, and they danced and danced at the ball last night. Now _I_ don't remember a woman like that dancing with the prince, but-"

"Father what does this have to do with me? If the prince is in love already then I have no chance with him now." The red headed girl frowned at poked at her crescent roll.

"Annabella listen, the prince is dressed as a peasant. He doesn't want people to know who he is, but I'm sure we can find him. He'll stay in character, we'll invite him inside, and if you play it nice enough, maybe he'll fall in love with you!" Master Tremané was leaning excitedly forward. Annabella's eyes widened, "Do you think that could happen? Would the prince really?"

Cinder stared at his step father. Could it really be true? The prince was in love with a woman? Then, the man Cinder danced with couldn't have been the prince, because they… they… that man had… kissed him. Cinder's hand fluttered over his lips for a moment and then dropped back into his lap. Desmond had caught the motion with curiosity.

"We're going out on the town today," Master Tremané laughed, "Eat up and then have Cinder help with your dishes and attire."

Cinder nodded at his step father and his step father nodded back. _Wow_, Cinder thought, _this plot for the prince has everyone in a really good mood._ The boy's blue eyes glanced quickly at Desmond, and then away. The man was stone-faced, no emotion whatsoever. He picked at his food indifferently.

Cinder guessed he was the only one in a bad mood.

Annabella shoveled food in her mouth, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Cinder matched her pace; he didn't want to waste any of his food.

"Done," Annabella shouted and shoved away from the table, "Come on, Cinder!" The girl dashed upstairs without the boy.

"We'll take care of the dishes," Master Tremané said gently and placed a hand on Cinder's, "Go make her look beautiful."

Cinder smiled and nodded gratefully, following quickly behind his step sister.

"Oh and Cinder," the boy's step father called after him, "Will you be coming with us?"

Cinder whirled around, "Really?"

"I'll take that as a yes, my boy, now get going!"

A smile spread across the blonde's face, "Thank you, Step-Father. Thank you!"

As Cinder went up the stairs, he heard Desmond ask to tag along. The boy frowned slightly at the thought, but he wouldn't let it get him down. He was happy. Maybe it was because of the nice demeanor of his family today, maybe it was because he was going outside the property line for the first time in forever, but maybe so more than others, it was because he had a chance to see the prince again.


	13. The Plan

"Are you certain this is a good idea?"

The prince glanced back at his father. The king had a frustrated look on his face. He did not like the idea of his son roaming the streets of town in search of some dreamed up girl. Well, a girl that seemed dreamed up, anyway. The king simply didn't like it. And after what had transpired in the courtyard between his son and the mysterious blonde boy, the king wasn't sure he could trust the prince anymore.

"Father," the prince began, "I told you. This is _the girl._ I will never marry another. I have to find her. And I'm _certain_ she lives right here! And even if she doesn't… I will go to the ends of the earth searching for her."

The king sighed. He wanted to understand this love, he really did. But the prince shouldn't be going off on his own in this way. The girl hadn't surfaced for a reason. Maybe she didn't want to be married to royalty, God knows why not. Or maybe she didn't exist at all. The king shook the image of the blonde boy dancing out of his head.

"Son, I-"

"Please let me go, Father."

The prince's eyes were wide, begging. The king couldn't hold the gaze for long. He averted his eyes and stared at the carpet under the prince's feet. "I won't stop you." The king nodded solemnly, "But if you can't find her in one week, then you are to return to the castle. That is final."

An elated prince hugged his father. "Thank you!" The prince smiled and turned to leave. He waved goodbye to the castle as he walked swiftly towards town. He wrapped the brown shawl around himself, covering his civilian clothes. He did the best he could with his disguise, thinking it was quite genius, actually.

To dress up and saunter into town as if he was one of the townspeople, he didn't know how he had come up with the idea.

He knew though that he had to come up with something to find the one he loved. The little blonde boy with sapphire eyes. He hadn't any idea where the boy had come from, but he had high hopes that it was his own kingdom.

Lying to the king was the hardest part of the prince's plan. He loved his father and he wanted him to be happy, but now that the prince was in love, he would sacrifice everything. If the king knew the prince preferred wide-eyed boys to satin-lipped women… he didn't know how the king would react. And so the prince lied to the king, to the palace, to the entire kingdom, as he embarked on his selfish journey to find the boy he couldn't stop thinking about since he had first caught a glimpse of him.

Back in the castle, the king sent three of his best men to follow the prince. He meant no harm, only to make sure his son was safe. But in the back of his mind, in the depths of his heart, the king wondered if he didn't want to find the prince searching for the boy he had kissed at the ball.


	14. Cake Invitation

Cinder looked all around him, taking in the fresh air and the chatter and bustle of people on the streets. He didn't remember the town being this busy, but it had been awhile since he had been in it. The boy's blue eyes were glazed over with joy. He wanted to take in every face, every sign of every shop, every crack in the worn roads.

"Cinder, over here!" Annabella was pointing into the window of a dress shop, an expensive one, the boy noted.

The girl had pointed out a red dress with a pink collar and pink gloves. "What do you think," she squealed, "It suits me, doesn't it?"

Cinder smiled. Annabella was actually quite enjoyable when in the right mood, and right now her mood was 'shopping', so she was even nicer than usual. "I think you would look great in it." The boy smiled directly at his step sister. She cocked her head to the side questioningly. Usually Cinder wasn't this lively around her. She smiled in return, "I'm going to try it on."

The door clicked open and a bell chimed, announcing Annabella's entry. Cinder dodged out of the dress store and decided to go to the bakery. Master Tremané had stolen Desmond away and left Annabella to Cinder. The boy's step-father might not like that he left Annabella alone in the dress store, but she was a grown woman and should be fine alone for a moment or so. Cinder stared hungrily at the cakes in the bakery window. They were all so pretty and delicate looking. He just wanted to stuff each and every one of them in his mouth.

Behind the glass, the baker noticed Cinder staring at the cakes. The man smiled warmly and twirled his gray mustache in his thick fingers.

Cinder looked down away from the cakes. He looked over his left shoulder, then his right shoulder. He knew there was someone watching him, thinking he was weird for staring at cakes all bent over and drooling. As he turned to leave, the baker stepped out of the store. "Young boy," the baker called to Cinder, "I have something for you!"

The blonde looked around to confirm it was really him the baker was addressing. He didn't see any other 'young boys'. "You have something," Cinder asked reproachfully, "for me?"

The baker gestured for the boy to hold out his hands. Cinder did so. The baker placed a white box in the boy's hands. "It's a cake. One of the ones you were looking at. I hope you enjoy it."

Cinder stared at the box with eyes wide like plates. "Really? You're really giving me a whole cake?"

"You looked like you could use it." The baker smiled and waved as he retreated back into his shop.

"Thank you," Cinder called out to him.

A smile spread slowly across the boy's face. He sniffed and wiped away the tears that were forming in his crystal eyes. This was the kindest thing anyone had done for him in almost ten years. He couldn't believe how nice this day was turning out to be. Maybe, just maybe, he would be allowed to keep the cake. Maybe his step-father wouldn't take it away.

The contents of the box were, as the baker said, a cake Cinder had been eyeing in the window. The boy leaned up against the glass of the dress shop Annabella was still busying herself in. He examined the cake inside the box lovingly. It was the most expensive one, vanilla frosting on white cake, strawberries piled high on top, three layers high, strawberries and frosting in-between each layer. Cinder poked a finger into the butter frosting, taking a good amount off and then licking his finger clean of it. Absolutely delicious.

Peeking behind him, he saw Annabella rifling through all the red dresses. He smiled and poked another finger into the frosting. He wished for a fork or a spoon, at least. He wanted to devour every last bit of the cake, keep it all to himself. It was selfish, yes, but the boy suddenly couldn't help it.

He sighed and licked the frosting while he waited for Annabella to be done in the boring dress store. He watched all the faces as they passed by, remembering that they were originally here to find the prince. A couple other finely dressed women seemed to have the same idea. Cinder studied them in all their powdered glory. Such soft skin and fair hair. The boy pulled his finger out of his mouth and stroked his own hair. The prince liked a woman now. Maybe he had the wrong idea about Cinder?

The boy shook his head and looked back at his cake. He took more frosting onto his pale finger and stuck it in his mouth. _It doesn't matter who the prince loves,_ Cinder pouted, _I'll never see him again in this lifetime._

Blue eyes wandered to the right, then to the left. They searched the faces randomly, then selected one that stood out.

Cinder straightened his spine abruptly and let fall from his hands the beautiful cake he had been given.

That face, that hair, those eyes. Cinder knew them well. They'd been in every one of his dreams since he danced with the owner at the ball.

The boy stood, awestruck. What was he supposed to do? Run and get Annabella? The panic within Cinder rose when the prince spotted him. Was he supposed to confront the man himself now?

The prince was only a few shops away and he had begun to make his way to Cinder. They had locked eyes and now the boy could feel his face getting hot, his heart rate getting quicker. Should he dodge into the dress store? He wasn't sure if he could face the man that had kissed him as he had run away from the ball. The panicked boy looked around him for an escape. He noticed Desmond and Master Tremané heading towards him.

This was the escape he was looking for.

The prince stood in front of Cinder, demanding his attention. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Cinder looked up into the dark brown eyes of the prince. He was reminded of the ball. He smiled up at the beautiful face.

The prince smiled down at the boy. "Cinder, will you-"

"Who have we here?" Master Tremané stepped between the prince and his step son.

The prince nodded politely at the older man, "My name is Liam. And you are?"

"I'm this boy's step-father." Master Tremané had a mischievous gleam in his eye that told Cinder he knew Liam was the prince. "This is my son, Desmond." The prince, Liam, nodded politely at them both. "You seem to be getting yourself acquainted with our Cinder," Master Tremané smiled.

"Oh, well, I guess…" The prince stuttered.

"Why don't you come to our home for dinner this evening?"

The prince looked at Cinder, who wore a terrified expression. The man smiled and accepted Master Tremané's invitation.


	15. Blush Before Dinner

Cinder wanted to sit alone in his room. He had the terrible feeling of tears stuck in the back of his throat. But in the end, he was stuck in the dank kitchen with cooking and cleaning duties, listening to the terrible plotting of his step family.

The prince was on his way here, this prince who called himself 'Liam'.

Was that his real name? _Prince Liam, _Cinder liked the sound of it. He'd never thought of the prince with a name. He'd never thought of the royal man as anyone but 'the Prince'.

And now on the other side of the closest wall to him, Cinder could hear his family conspiring to have Liam married to Annabella, a thought that made the feeling of tears stick. As Cinder prepared dinner, he whispered to himself agitatedly, "He's not going to like her. You can't just make someone fall in love like that or anything. Besides, he remembers my name. He was talking to _me._ He's still that wonderful man that danced with me under the stars."

The boy swung around, closing his eyes, remembering happily that night when his dream had come true. He began lovingly humming the waltz.

"What are you doing," came a voice from the doorway.

Cinder stopped humming in his momentary shock, letting his mouth drop open for a second, inviting a startled intake of breath. Cinder composed himself slightly and looked over his shoulder at the doorway. Desmond was slinking in, taking in the awkward kitchen setting. Cinder took a step back, allowing his step brother to glide past him and take a seat at the small table that was available.

"H-Hello," Cinder choked out his step brother's name, "Desmond."

"What are you making?" The older man sniffed the air with disinterest.

"S-Sweet potatoes and turkey… A salad, dinner rolls that we haven't served for awhile."

Desmond stood from the table suddenly, Cinder's heart almost jumped out of his rib cage. Despite all the convincing the boy had done for himself, he was still afraid of Desmond, desperately so, in the back of his mind. The man's sudden movements, his hard eyes, his dull green pillows. It was all there, warning the targeted blonde boy.

"Desmond?" Cinder stared at him with guarded eyes and confusion.

"Cinder," the older man swept up to his younger step sibling, "I wanted to talk to you."

The boy stepped back until he had his back against the counter. "What did you want to talk about?"

Desmond stepped forward, reaching out to Cinder, "I wanted to talk to you about the prince."

Cinder felt a familiar stab in his chest. His hand flew up over his heart and he squeezed the fabric of his shirt. "What about the prince," the boy's blue eyes narrowed with the question. His hand tightened around his shirt.

The ashen haired man rested his hand on Cinder's hip bone. The younger boy flinched away, but bumped into the counter directly behind him. The boy's panic level was rising, his eyes widening as Desmond got closer. The older man leaned into Cinder, "I know you danced with him the night of the ball." Desmond stroked his step brother's face, "But he's not allowed anywhere near you anymore. You know, my father is trying to make him love Annabella, get them married. With my father's conniving ways, it just might work."

Cinder scrunched up his face and turned away. "What're you doing, Desmond? I don't care about any of that." The boy's voice cracked, letting Desmond know it was a dirty lie. The blonde cleared his throat and continued, "Now go on, I have food to make…"

The green eyed man glared with suspicion at Cinder, pushing the younger boy's back up against the counter. He held gently onto the younger boy's chin, pulling him up and pressing their lips together. Cinder let his tears fall silently. He couldn't pull away, Desmond held him firmly to the kiss, also resting a hand on the boy's lower hip.

When Desmond pulled away, Cinder wiped his tears away and sniffled. "I'll go now…" Desmond said, glaring at Cinder with a hurt look.

Cinder turned around and wiped his nose. He leaned on the counter, trying not to cry anymore. Desmond walked silently to the door. In the doorway, the ashen haired man stopped and turned back to Cinder. Slowly a smile spread across his face, and his eyes narrowed. He loved the little blonde boy.

Out in the main entrance, a loud knock resounded from the grand door. Annabella, who had been powdering her nose upstairs, screamed in excitement.

The blonde boy in the kitchen panicked. He wasn't ready at all! Now the prince was in his home, he could hear the voices as the door opened.

Peeking around the frame of the door, Cinder made sure no one was around. He dashed for the stairs, speeding up to his room. He just wanted a chance to fix his hair and put on a nicer set of clothes, then he would be back down to serve the food.

In his room, the boy ran his fingers through his straight blonde hair. In the mirror he made sure he had nothing on his face, which he then proceeded to wash anyway. He threw off his usual clothes and went for a clean white long sleeve shirt. He threw off his patched brown pants and pulled out his nicer black ones, buttoning them up quickly. As he ran out the door, he grabbed a blue vest from the chest of clothes at the end of his bed.

Back down the stairs and into the kitchen, constantly looking to make sure no one saw him.

"Will you be joining us," Master Tremané was at the doorway, questioning his step son.

Cinder looked hopeful, "Will you let me?"

The step father looked over his step son, noticing his attire was nicer than usual. "Yes I think you should join us," he finally said, "After all, you were the one who spotted the prince in the first place."

"Thank you, Step Father," Cinder smiled gratefully, "You've been so kind to me."

Master Tremané smiled, still such a rare sight.

"Come to the grand dining room, we'll be there waiting." The old man left Cinder alone to prepare the trays.

The boy threw everything together with the quickness of practice.

He couldn't wait to see the prince and enjoy a dinner with him. It was something he had never even thought of as possible. The prince in his home! Eating his food! He was so happy. Even after what Desmond had said, the boy didn't want anything to damper his mood, so he did his best to just put out of of his mind.

Cinder took the food with him into the dining room, barely able to see over it all. After setting the things on the table, he glanced over to the prince.

The man looked stunning, his hair a delicate mess, his clothes, though not the finest, radiated cleanliness and quality. He sat next to Annabella, having an animated conversation with her. Across from him sat Desmond, glaring furiously. And at the head of the table sat Master Tremané, smiling happily at the conversation between the prince and his daughter.

At the sound of trays being set on the table, the prince Liam looked up and locked eyes with Cinder.

The young boy blushed and the prince smiled widely.


	16. What Was That, Love?

Cinder slipped slowly through the night. He crept down the stairs, knowing his step-family wouldn't wake up, but being careful all the same. This was the first time he had left his room in the dead of night for an entirely selfish reason.

Before, he would come down because someone was sick or a fire needed tending. But now he went down the splintered attic steps because of a little slip of white paper in his front pocket. It had been handed to him by the prince, who was now just down the hall.

Master Tremane had offered Liam the best guest room in the house, still hoping for a royal wedding for his daughter and the disguised prince. And as Cinder was escorting the Prince to his room, the man had slipped him the paper. Cinder dared not read it, even touch or look at it, until he was safely in his room for the night. He had been sitting on his bed, holding it in his hands for several moments before unfolding it and taking it in.

The note read:

_Dear sweet Cinder,_

_From the moment I saw you at the ball, I knew I would stop at nothing until I had you. Now that you are just within my reach, I cannot hold back. Come to my room tonight. I long for your voice, your face, and those eyes. _

_Your love-struck Prince, _

_Liam._

And Cinder went to him. He could not refuse. As soon as he saw the neat, handsome print across the heavy white paper, he knew he would do whatever it said.

When he reached the door of the guest room, he knocked softly, hoping not to startle the prince surely lounging inside. Cinder heard the shuffling of royal slippered feet behind the doors, but they did not open. The blue-eyed boy went to knock again, but when his small fist tried to connect with wood, there was nothing there. For the prince had opened the door. Cinder took in a sharp breath. The firelight behind the prince illuminated him like an angel. He was the same beautifully disheveled man Cinder danced with at the ball, with the same glowing eyes and perfect, polite posture. The prince smiled, and the fire danced on it. An honest, bright, loving smile. Cinder couldn't help but think of it as the complete opposite of Desmond's smile. The prince smiled with care, and Desmond smiled with lust. Young Cinder returned the smile shyly.

"Come in, please," Liam invited with enthusiasm. Cinder did as he was told, with a polite bow, and an un-lively step. The boy was nervous and slow, unsure of what the Prince wanted with him. The note said he just wanted to see him. But it also said the prince couldn't hold himself back. There was a flash in Cinder's mind of Desmond undoing his pants greedily. Cinder cringed into himself and swallowed, carefully making his way to the chairs in front of the fireplace. The prince sat eagerly across from him. There was a long silence in which Cinder sat waiting for the Prince to speak up. Which he eventually did.

"Cinder, how long do intend to make me wait?"

The little boy looked up from the fire, surprised. "Make you wait, your Highness? I was waiting simply for you to address me."

The Prince smiled. "You're really quite polite aren't you?"

"I am in the presence of royalty. It was how I was raised."

The Prince narrowed his eyes, thinking. He didn't like the way Cinder said that. He could see the boy falling into submission.

"I don't want you to think of me as your prince," Liam said, "Just think of me as the man who loves you, my name is Liam."

"How can that be," Cinder wondered out loud, creasing his thin eyebrows.

Liam smiled another firelight smile. "That night, you changed me forever. I didn't stop thinking about you for a second, and never seeing you again was something I could never live with. That's why I'm here, Cinder. Your beauty- yes, a boy like you is truly beautiful, unlike any woman- overpowered me until I thought I couldn't survive without your face."

"My face?" Cinder stared at him, desperate to understand this concept of love. Cinder had known love. Love for his parents, and sometimes he felt love for his step family. But that kind of love couldn't compare to the pangs he felt when the Prince looked at him, or the butterflies in his stomach when they danced. And according to the prince was saying, that was all only because he had a young face.

The prince understood what Cinder didn't. Liam understood that the young boy was struggling with the idea of love. Especially a love based on attraction. "Cinder, I want to know you. The soul behind the face, Really, that's why I searched for you."

Cinder looked puzzled for a moment. Red and orange from the fireplace danced in his watering ocean eyes. He shook his head and looked down, trying to figure out a response.

"Why would you want to know me?" The boy's voice was quiet and the prince couldn't hear him.

"What was that, love? "

"Why would you want to know me?" Cinder repeated himself, but not at all louder than the first time. The fire crackled violently, adding to the soft tension in the room. Orange sparks exploded in Cinder's eyes as he watched the flames lick the dried wood he had cut himself.

"Because," Prince Liam had heard him the second time, "You seem like the boy I could spend the rest of my life with."


	17. Runaway

After the initial shock of a marriage proposal, Cinder softened up considerably. He didn't dislike the prince. In fact, the Prince was the only person who made his heart beat the way it was now. The only person that made his face heat up and turn delicate pink. The only person who, for once, wasn't treating him like he was less of a person than everyone else.

"Do you have to get married to someone if they ask you," Cinder asked, softly because he was afraid of the answer.

Liam laughed and Cinder looked up at him, eyes wide. "Really," the prince asked.

Cinder continued staring at him with those big eyes.

"How old are you, Cinder," the Prince had a touch of seriousness to him now. "For you to wonder such a thing, shouldn't you know by now that you don't have to do anything you don't want to?"

_You may not have to do anything you don't want to, but you're the Prince. I'm just a peasant boy,_ were Cinder's thoughts, though there was no bitterness. He knew that was just the way things were. "I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen? Really? I would have guessed you much younger."

Cinder wasn't sure if he was to take offense or take that remark as a compliment. He let it hang in the air a little while before asking, in turn, how old the prince was.

"I'll be twenty-four this fall. Your age makes me feel terribly old." The prince let out a light hearted laugh, and the fire crackled as if chuckling with him. "I hadn't really thought about our age difference. Well, most men are married by my age. My father would have loved for me to be married by your age. He so desperately wants grandchildren."

It sunk into Cinder slowly, but he gasped when he realized. "How are you going to give him grandchildren if you don't bring a woman home? Won't he be mad?" The boy was leaning forward in his chair, saying all of this very loudly. He didn't want to upset the _King_ of all people. That would be _bad._

"I've already decided who I want to bring home. I hope he wants to come. And if my father doesn't approve, then I'll leave the palace. I'll leave everything for you, Cinder."

"Prince Liam… This is so much… I don't know what to say. I don't know where your ideas are coming from, and I don't know why me-"

"Cinder, please understand. I want you to be my bride." The prince leaned forward and took Cinder by the hands. "Please."

An arrow from Cupid's bow shot through the young boy's heart in that moment. A bride. One of those beautiful blushing things with billowing white dresses and happiness in their eyes. He remembered when his mother re-married to his step-father. She was stunning, Cinder thought. She looked like an angel that day, and then she became one shortly after. Cinder smiled. He had a chance to be that happy. To be loved. He didn't know Liam very well, but he was offering a hand in a happy, if somewhat unconventional, marriage. Cinder thought of happiness with this man,. He could see it. He could picture being treated right for the rest of his life by the kind man in front of him, holding his hands. He pictured the white marble castle walls he had seen many times in his dreams. He pictured the luxurious bed he and the prince would share, where he could sleep soundly with an arm around him. He saw in his mind pretty plated breakfast foods and romantic candle light dinners with his husband.

But the crack of the fire yanked the arrow out of Cinder's chest. He couldn't marry the prince. The King would never let two men get married, much less if one of them was his only son. There would be no children to take over the throne. The kingdom couldn't be ruled that way. The people would lose all respect for their rulers and the castle.

Cinder looked down. He remembered where he was, and who it was that lived in this house with him. _They_ would never let him leave. Especially Desmond. The man would more than likely kill before letting Cinder leave with the Prince. The boy had seen Desmond's eyes when he looked at the other man. No, Cinder couldn't risk getting caught in the fantasy the Prince was presenting to him. He pulled his hands out of the larger ones grasping them.

"It can't happen."

Liam's eyes went wide, shocked. "Why? Why can't it happen?"

"It just wouldn't work. The King would never allow it. There would be no one after you to rule the kingdom."

"I hadn't thought of that," the Prince admitted, "But so what? We can think of something afterwards. I know it will work if we just try!"

"My family would never let me leave," tears started flooding to the little boy's eyes, but he held them in. He didn't want to cry in front of Liam. Even when all he heard from himself were excuses.

"You don't have to tell them. Let's just disappear together." The Prince was desperate now. He wanted Cinder more than anything. And he wasn't used to fighting for what he wanted. He would do whatever it took. "Please Cinder. If those are the only reasons, we can work around them. Unless you just don't want to marry another man. I would rather you just tell me that."

Cinder cringed. That was another thing. What was the Prince thinking, getting involved with a young boy of no social standing at all?

"I don't know you… That's why." The tears did fall now. Why was he crying over a man he didn't know? A life he couldn't have? Cinder couldn't say even if he knew.

The Prince leaned forward and wiped the tears from the boy's cheeks. "My name is Liam, I am twenty-four years old, blood type O, and my birthday is October 10th. I enjoy singing and dancing. I never much enjoyed sword fighting, but I'm good at it. My mom used to call me 'Lamb' when I was a little boy."

Cinder looked at him in puzzlement, tears trying to dry. The Prince smiled and dropped to his knees on the floor in front of the boy. He held Cinder's delicate chin in his large hand and slowly, gently, carefully, brought their faces closer. "I could tell you everything about me, but then what would I have left to amaze you with while we lay under the stars together?"

Liam brought his lips to Cinder's, and he kissed the boy deeply. At first, there was the smallest struggle from him. He didn't want to fall anymore in love with the Prince. He didn't think his heart could beat any faster, but it did. And in the heat of the moment, he wrapped his arms around the Prince. Embraced him in their kiss.

"Meet me here tomorrow night. I'm sure your master will let me stay another night if I feign interest in Annabella. Meet me here tonight with any belongings you want to keep, and we can escape to the palace. I promise you, Cinder, I won't let anything happen to you. Everything will be okay as long as we have each other, right?"

"Okay," the boy smiled widely for the first time that night. And as they walked to the door, Cinder kept smiling. The Prince had his hand on the doorknob, when Cinder turned around and on his tip-toes, kissed the Prince again quickly on the mouth. "Thank you," The boy whispered, and slipped out the door.

Liam smiled and shut the door behind his love. He then returned to his chair in front of the fire place to think. He knew he could make the relationship work. He would _make_ it work.

In the hall, just after exiting the Prince's room, Cinder heard a voice behind him.

"Good evening, Cinder."

It was Desmond. The boy knew that voice all too well. It sent shivers down his spine and occasionally haunted his dreams. Cinder turned around and nodded, "Hello, Desmond. What are you doing up so late?"

The green eyed man sauntered toward the boy. He ran a finger over the dried tear streams on Cinder's pale cheeks. "I could ask you the same thing."

"The Prince needed his fire tended to…" Cinder turned his face away and wiped the tear trails away. "Goodnight Desmond, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"It wasn't a disturbance, Cinder. I love seeing you." Desmond took hold of the boy's hand and pulled him back. Cinder looked away at the floor. His gray haired step-brother leaned down and gently kissed up the boy's neck and ended on his lips with only a light peck. "I'll see you in the morning, Cinder."

"Yes, Desmond." Cinder pulled away and headed to the end of the hall. To his room. His sanctuary.

The green eyed man's eyes narrowed and he turned back to the Prince's room. He went to the doors and knocked loudly. There was shuffling, and the door opened frantically. "Yes?" The Prince met Desmond's eyes at the same level. He couldn't be intimidated by a man his same size, but there was something in Desmond's eyes that the Prince was wary of.

"We need to talk," he said, pushing the Prince aside and slamming the door behind him, "About Cinder."


	18. Remembering Last Night

Cinder opened his eyes early the morning after his visit to the Prince's room. The clock tower at the castle chimed, telling him he had only slept for three hours. He rubbed his aching eyes and pushed his blankets off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He took a deep breath and let out a short yawn before slipping his night gown over his head. A slow smile formed on his lips as he remembered what would be happening tonight. It was the excitement of that knowledge that had kept him awake and woken him early this morning.

The boy crawled out of bed and dressed in his usual clothes and brushed his hair the usual way and wore his usual expression on his delicate face. But after he was dressed, he took extra time to pack a few clothes. But first, he took the few precious items he had left from his parents. Matching gold bracelets. One with his father's name for his mother, one with his mother's name for his dad. Both of them had his name engraved on the back. He set those gently on the bottom of his bag, then piled a few articles of clothing on top. Down in the barn, the old horse was stirring, and Cinder decided he didn't have anything he could really take. He left the bag in his closet and headed down to the kitchen.

He remembered, before he ran outside, to put a bowl of milk out for Luss. He poured a bowl of food for Bern, who was scratching at the door from outside. "Come on, Bern," Cinder smiled, opening the door for him and setting down his food. "We have lots to talk about, old boy," the boy smiled at his dog and scratched between his ears, "Lots to talk about."

In the finest guest room of the Tremané Chateau, the Prince was beginning to stir. A ray of sunlight found its way through his curtains and fell right across his closed eyes. He turned around with a groan and mashed a pillow over his face. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want the memories of last night to come rushing back. But of course, they did.

They started with Cinder. The way the fire made his eyes shine and the way he creased his brow, trying to comprehend love. Then the kiss they shared. But he couldn't smile, because after that, was pure terror. His left eyebrow began throbbing and he figured there was probably a bruise there. He knew his hair would cover it up. The Prince reflected on the moments Desmond had spent 'talking' to him.

"What did you do to him," Desmond had said, pushing Liam against the door after it closed behind him. "I saw the tears that streaked his face. If you touched him I swear-" Desmond shoved harder.

"What are you talking about?" Liam remembered he had let his anger get to him and he had pushed Desmond back. That was when Desmond had thrown the first punch. The Prince had avoided it, but it left a dent in the door. When the Prince went to counter, Desmond had shoved him again and landed the blow to his forehead.

"Don't you dare go near him," Desmond was shouting, murder in his eyes. His arm pressed against Liam's neck and the prince rubbed his throat at the memory as he sat up in bed. He pushed the heavy purple comforters aside. He flinched when he moved his right arm, and turned to inspect his shoulder. The mark there shocked him. He remembered when it had happened:

The Prince had seen the craziness in Desmond's eyes as he held his grip on his neck. "I don't care who you are," the green eyed man leaned forward, whispering the words, "But Cinder is mine. Do you understand? Don't think you can take him from me, just because your daddy is the King." That's when the Prince felt the sharp pain in his shoulder when Desmond bit him. He sank his teeth so far in that it drew blood. The Prince regretted that he couldn't stop the man. He had struggled free of the grip around his neck, but Desmond had made his point clear. He shoved the Prince and the older man slumped to the ground, emotionally defeated. Desmond had left the room with the final word.

"Do not go near Cinder again. I _will_ kill you."

**Hello Everyone.** This Is The Author. I Hope You Are All Enjoying The Story. It Is So Close To Completion! I'm Excited! Anyway, I Was Just Wondering If You Would Be Interested In Character Profiles For The Characters In The Story, Because I Have Some! Leave A Review Or A PM For Me? Thank You – Dr Giggles


	19. So This Is Love

"Step Father…"

Master Tremané looked back at the sound of Cinder's voice. The boy had entered the music room in the middle of Desmond's voice lesson. "What is it, boy," the old man asked with a glare.

"I'm done with my chores for the day. Is there anything else you have for me to do?" The boy took hesitant steps into the room. He held his hands behind his back, fidgeting a bit nervously. He didn't want to have any more chores tonight. He still had to make dinner. But he was required to ask nonetheless. He had no such thing as free time.

Master Tremané seemed to consider it for a moment. "Why don't you join us before dinner? Annabella is out and poor Desmond is out of a singing partner." The man snickered, "A female singing partner." Desmond hid a smile.

Cinder had noticed Annabella's absence. "Oh, where is Annabella out to?" The boy was slowly making his way to Desmond. He tried not to make eye contact with his older step brother, embarrassed after being caught coming out of the Prince's room the night previous.

"She's out with our dear Prince Liam tonight." Master Tremané smiled, nodding his approval to himself. Cinder had taken his place next to Desmond and couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. "Now Cinder," Master Tremané began playing a few notes, "I trust you know the song. We're starting from the top."

Cinder recognized the song immediately. His mother and father had sung it to each other often when they were both still alive.

"So this is love," Cinder began quietly, "So this is love." He hummed as the song required. "So this is what makes life divine."

Desmond stared at Cinder, captivated. Master Tremané's eyes were also trained on the young boy. Neither of the men had realized the boy possessed such a gifted voice.

Cinder started humming again to the tune of the piano. He noticed the eyes staring, and folded into himself self consciously.

"I'm on a globe," Cinder sang, "And now I know…"

"And now I know," Desmond repeated in his clear, deep voice. They hummed together shortly and Cinder continued, "What heaven is like." The boy hummed by himself again and looked up at Desmond. "My heart has wings."

The older step brother reached out for his younger step brother. The boy flinched away. Desmond pulled his hand back/

"And I can fly," Cinder continued.

Desmond grabbed Cinder's hand as they sang the next line together. "I'll cross every star in the sky." They hummed and Desmond wrapped Cinder in his arms. The young boy's heart was in his throat. His eyes were wide with disbelief and fear.

"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of," they continued. Desmond spun Cinder around. He smiled at the boy, noticing his stiff shoulders and hoping to ease the awkwardness.

They ended the song, "So this is love."

Master Tremané watched the whole thing. He finished the song with a flutter of keys. Cinder pushed away from Desmond and headed to the door. "I think I'll start dinner now. Thank you Step-Father, Desmond." He didn't look at either of them as he stepped quickly out the door.

Desmond looked after him longingly. Master Tremané's eyes narrowed. "Son, is there something you want to tell me?"


	20. Because

Cinder hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was wiping an endless stream of tears from his cheeks. Why did the Prince have to leave with Annabella? That left him alone with _Desmond_ and Master Tremané. Why did Desmond act out like that?

Cinder's skin burned where his step brother had touched him and he itched at it angrily. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Liam walking Annabella inside. She was chatting away, but the Prince was looking away, only half-listening. He noticed Cinder running to the kitchen.

"Annabella, dear," the Prince said, "I'll meet you for dinner with your family tonight. There is something I have to take care of…"

The red head looked surprised. "Oh," she frowned, "Alright. Thank you very much."

Annabella headed upstairs, looking back occasionally, watching the Prince make his way to the kitchen. She had noticed Cinder go in there just a moment ago. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, but continued upstairs to her room.

In the kitchen, the Prince was embracing a fallen angel. Cinder's shoulders trembled. He was trying to tell Liam what happened. He was trying to tell him everything. Everything Desmond had done. But the boy just sobbed into the Prince's chest. He couldn't control himself in the arms of the man who wanted to take him away and make him happy.

"Shhh," Liam whispered, "What's wrong? What happened?" The Prince stroked Cinder's soft hair comfortingly. The boy began sniffling, trying to clear his throat.

The Prince forgot everything that had happened with Desmond the night before. All he could focus on was the broken beauty in his arms. "Cinder," Liam cooed, "Cinder it's all right. It's all right."

"You're taking me away from here tonight," Cinder choked, "Right? Right?"

"If that's what you want," The Prince looked into Cinder's desperate eyes and lost himself in love all over again. "Anything you want, my love, I can promise you that."

A slight smile touched Cinder's lips as he clung to his prince, and more tears erupted from the boy's eyes. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because I love you."

********************************** Character Profiles**

Character Profile #1

**Cinder**

Birthdate: March 3rd

Sign: Pisces

Blood Type: AB Negative

Favorite Food: Cupcakes with blue frosting

Hidden Talent/s: Singing and dancing

Favorite Animal: All Animals!

Hobby: Cleaning None

Modern-day job: Altar Boy

Character Color: Blue

Theme Song: Numb by Linkin Park

Character Profile #2

**Prince Liam**

Birthdate: June 21st

Sign: Cancer

Blood-type: O

Favorite Food: Veal Catatoré

Hidden Talent/s: Painting

Favorite Animal: Horse

Hobby: Fencing

Modern-day Job: CEO

Character Color: Red or White

Theme Song/s: As Long As You Love Me by Justin Bieber


	21. To the Palace

Cinder crept quietly down the attic stairs. Again.

He had his small bag slung over his shoulders, ready to meet at the top of the main stairway to make their escape. Cinder was there earlier than the agreed midnight, because he just couldn't help himself. He believed in the love Liam claimed to have for him, and he believed in the happiness they would share.

Cinder stared down the hallway, waiting for Liam's elegant figure to stroll along the hallway and take him away. The boy wasn't thinking a single doubtful thought. None of his pessimistic ideas from the previous night presented themselves in the moments Cinder waited for the Prince. And by the time the man got there, Cinder's adrenaline was pumping, not any single, clear thought made it to his head.

"Are you ready to go, my love? The Prince looked at Cinder expectantly.

The boy nodded his head vigorously. Prince Liam hooked his arms with his younger companion. He looked into the boy's eyes again, but this time he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Cinder didn't even wait a heart beat with his honest-to-god response: "As long as I'm with you."

So the pair hurried down the steps. They stood quietly on the hard granite floors and Cinder was able to open the door without it squeaking. The Prince had a carriage waiting for them outside the property line.

In the carriage, Cinder sat across from the Prince. The boy looked behind him through the small window at his childhood home. It was getting smaller and smaller as they rode to the palace.

"Cinder," the Prince said, leaning forward.

The boy turned his head, the word 'yes' about to pass his lips when he ran into the Prince's. It was a small surprise kiss, and Cinder's reaction, the Prince decided, was worth the risk. The boy pulled away and touched his hand to his lips, like he was holding it there, His face went red with a cute type of shyness.

The Prince smiled. "When we get to the palace, we'll go straight to see my father. The wedding will be planned as soon as possible. Maybe even tomorrow!"

"But Your Highness, er… Well," Cinder leaned over and pressed a pale hand to the Prince's exposed shoulder. "Liam, should we talk about something first?"

The Prince hadn't noticed his night shirt slipping. But Cinder noticed. He saw the deep bite mark in the Prince's skin. And a pang in his chest made him realize he knew where it came from. The boy reached up and brushed the Prince's hair away from his forehead. He touched two could fingers to the man's forehead, gently, carefully. The Prince saw Cinder's expression change. The boy was worried, close to more tears.

Liam captured Cinder's small hand in his own. He placed each fingertip to his lips. "We can talk about all this later. It doesn't matter right now, love." The Prince smiled. To him, it really didn't matter. He had his bride and they were in love. That was all he need. But he still saw piercing worry in Cinder's eyes. "Come here, Cinder. Please, it'll be alright."

The boy fell again into the Prince's arms. But this time he didn't cry. He needed to be strong now, more than ever, if he was going to accept judgment from the king.

The Prince stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ears. Cinder smiled a weary smile, and then the carnage stopped in front of the castle.


	22. Castle Acceptance

The little courier hurried through the halls of the giant castle, hoping to find the Grand Duke before he retired to his sleeping chambers. The courier was sent by a page, who was sent by the Prince's Royal Footman to retrieve the Duke to wake the King. It was a long line, but the massage was the same: The Prince has returned with his chosen bride.

The footsteps hurrying along stopped the Duke on his way to bed. It was an urgent sound, echoing around the empty walls. When the courier appeared around the corner, the Duke let his head tilt questioningly. "Grand Duke, Sir," the courier called from down the hall, his voice reverberating like his footsteps, "A message for you!"

"Well what is it," the man asked, exhausted. He stroked his beard as the courier caught his breath. "Wake the King," the smaller man panted, "The Prince has returned with his new bride!"

The Duke's eyes bulged. It was so sudden! How had the Prince managed to find and woo a woman so quickly? And such a specific woman, _the_ woman, the only woman he would have. What luck! What a wonderful day for the kingdom! The Duke smiled broadly and rejoiced silently. "Thank you, good sir. I'll be off to wake the King now! Tell the Prince and his bride-to-be to wait comfortably in the receiving hall. The _family_ receiving hall." The courier nodded and turned to his new task, taking it with a brisk walk.

The Grand Duke was still smiling when arrived in front of the King's giant mahogany doors.

The King was sound asleep in his luxury bed, having an unexpectedly foretelling dream. In it, his son had finally returned. He was smiling a genuine smile that touched all the way to his dark brown eyes. His chosen lass was as beautiful as could be, with large blue eyes and long blonde hair. She had an air of past broken hopes, fragility, and the King loved this dream-woman his dream-son had brought before his dream-eyes. But outside this dream, he heard a loud knock on his bedroom doors. It made his dream-eyes blink. And with that dream-blink, his son and soon-to-be-bride faded ever so slightly. The King turned over in his sleep, trying to hold on to them longer, but three louder knocks intruded in his dream, making his dream-eyes blink and blink and blink, until his son and the dream-wife were gone.

The King finally opened his real-eyes and struggled out from under his blankets, still hearing the knocking on his door. "What is it," he shouted, agitated, as he crawled out of bed and stomped to the excessively large doors.

"I apologize for the rude awakening, Your Majesty," the Grand Duke said from behind the closed door.

"I don't care about apologies, you idiot," the King grumbled, "Get on with it then!" The King flung open his bedroom door, which opened inwards and smacked into his bedroom wall, creating a dent in the cream colored paint. The Duke's eyes shifted nervously to the door, then his bearded face returned to it's previously grinning state. "The Prince, your son, has returned, Your Highness."

The King paused, happiness evident on his face, but he had to ask the next question; a question that would answer any hopes or fears he had regarding his son, his kingdom, and the chance of grandchildren. "He has his bride with him?"

"I haven't seen the lucky lady myself yet, sire, but they said he does have his choice ride with him!" The Grand Duke was now trailing behind the King, who had started leaving his room after 'lucky lady'.

"Where are they? The Family Hall?"

"Yes, receiving, sire."

"Uh-humph," the King grumbled, almost to himself, as he quickly navigated his way down to the receiving hall held exclusively for family. Down two flights of stairs, through three extensive hallways, and two sets of doors, the King was finally standing in front of the only set that mattered.

"Wait here, Duke," the King requested, "I'd like to be the first to speak with them. As family."

"Yes, of course, sire. I'll wait patiently for your return…" The Duke had barely finished his sentence before the King shut the door behind himself as he searched the dim room for his son.

"Dad!" The Prince exclaimed as the King shouted "Son!"

The two came together in a bear hug. The Prince smiled sadly upon seeing his father, knowing banishment may come to him for what he was about to admit.

"What is this ill-fitting attire," the King laughed, pulling at his son's night-shirt. He kept a fatherly arm around his son's masculine shoulders, squeezing him as he laughed. The Prince laughed as well, "Look at yourself, father, before you speak! You're wearing your night robes as well!"

The King and his son laughed again, sharing another hug. "Now Liam," the King started, looking around, "Where is your beautiful bride-to-be?" The King searched the room, noticing the lamps were far dimmer than they should be, and that more oil should be added to them. The chairs beside the fireplace were empty, the sofas by the door were dark, and behind the desk was absent of a humanly body.

"Right here, Father." The Prince stepped aside and Cinder became the largest presence in the room between the two older men. The King looked curiously, noticing the silken blonde hair, shorter, but almost as he had imagined. The big, frightened eyes that stared up at him were almost heart shattering. Cinder suddenly bowed deeply, not having meant to postpone it for so long in his nervousness. The King smiled and offered a hand, "What is your name, dear? No need to be afraid. Come tell me about yourself."

Cinder took the King's outstretched hand, and he pulled the boy encouragingly towards the fireplace, where he figured they could sit and talk comfortably. The King marveled silently at the delicateness of the hand that he held, and wondered, rather absentmindedly, if it would shatter like glass were he to squeeze too hard. The Prince followed behind them, and sat next to Cinder, across from his father. The fire raged and crackled in its place next to them.

"Are you nervous? I'm sure this was all sprung on you suddenly," the King smiled.

Cinder nodded, offering a meek smile in return.

"But you love my son?"

Cinder looked up, eyes wider than usual with surprise. He looked at the King's pleasantly casual face, then glanced at the Prince's expectant expression. The boy's face turned red, "Yes, Your Majesty, I believe I do."

The King smiled and nodded to himself, noting that she had a voice as beautiful as her face. "Oh, now that we have you talking, missy, why don't you tell me your name?"

"His name is Cinder," the Prince replied suddenly, very loudly, and very clearly.

The King's graying eyebrows raised, "H-He?"

Cinder stared at the ground, his bangs falling in his eyes as his ears turned red with nervous embarrassment. He heard the King shift uncomfortably. The fire crackled extra loudly in the silent room. Cinder slowly folded into himself, and the Prince suddenly stood. It was sudden, but he did it slowly, trying not to spook his father. The King also stood, but this was fast and sudden.

"Why, son? Have you gone mad?" The King didn't shout, he just looked around the room, at anything but his own son. His eyes rested on Cinder, who slowly stood and drifted to shield himself with the Prince's body.

"Father, please, just listen-" The Prince reached for the King, but the King brushed him off. He was staring at Cinder with critical eyes.

"Boy, come here, Cinder, was it?" The King grumbled. Cinder took timid steps toward the older man not knowing what to expect.

The King stared at the boy in a new light. Yes, he could see now the boy had fewer curves than the average woman, but more than the average man. His face was young and pink, lips still soft and innocent. His hair would have made many of the noblewomen in the kingdom green with envy. But the king noticed now, with the fire dancing in them, that the boy's blue eyes were so gripping they could captivate anyone that took a moment to look into them.

The King let a heavy hand drop onto Cinder's shoulder. The boy flinched, but he didn't drop it off. The King's eyes crinkled when he saw the boy flinch, but decided to leave it be for now. "I recognize you now," he told the boy. Cinder cocked his head to the side. The King smiled again and looked at his son, "I saw you run off with this one during the ball. I saw you two dancing."

The Prince nodded, stone faced. Cinder's face re-heated. The King looked back at the boy. "You know what I heard people saying about you? They said it was like an angel had visited the castle; you entered with such beauty, then disappeared on a whim. I recognize it in your eyes, the way you look at Liam, with such heart and undeserving devotion, for you couldn't have known him more than a week and you're running away with him." The King sighed and put his free hand on his son's shoulder, "What did you promise this boy to make him come so quickly?"

The Prince smiled, "The world." He looked at the blonde boy and smiled longingly.

Cinder returned the expression, his eyes watering. He knew he wouldn't cry tonight, he wouldn't let himself.

"Come here," the King pulled the two younger boys into his broad chest, wrapping them in his arms. "Son, you're the only family have left, my only son. I just want you to be happy. And if this boy, if Cinder makes you happy, I support you. I guess, I always knew it would turn out this way, ever since I saw you two dancing out there under the stars."

The three of them pulled out of the hug. Cinder wiped the moisture from his eyes, then immediately fell into a bow. "Thank you, Your Majesty, I owe you my life."

"No, no, you don't owe me anything! Maybe a couple grandchildren, but don't feel you owe me anything, child. And also… You might as well call me dad from now on." The King smiled at the two younger men, and they smiled back at him, the Prince with his arm around Cinder's waist.

"Wait," the King paused with a chuckle on his lips, "How are you going to have grandchildren?"

Cinder looked quizzically at his Prince Liam, who had a sly smile plastered on his face. Cinder's eyelids drooped suddenly, and he struggled for a moment to open them again. "We can talk about kids later, Father," Liam chuckled just like his dad, "I think we're in need of some rest."

"Of course, son," the King led the pair out of the family hall and into their new, permanent home, with a smile on his face.


	23. Let's Talk

Cinder peeled off his clothes quietly in the corner of the Prince's large bedroom. He knew the darkness was shrouding him from any stray glances the Prince might throw his way, but he was still self-conscious enough to face away from the bed. He slipped on a nightgown that had been provided for him from the Queen's old stock. It was a short lacey thing that hung loosely until it ended in the middle of his thighs. He found it to be rather comfortable despite it's decorations.

On the other side of the room, the Prince had slipped into a finer pair of pajamas, a red silk shirt and long matching silk pants. Cinder was still inspecting his night gown when he heard his Prince flop into the round bed that took up a good third of the large room.

"Cinder," Liam cooed from under the sheets, "Are you going to get in bed? Let's talk now, at least a little bit while we fall asleep." The Prince had a lot of pressing questions he was burning to ask, but he knew asking any questions now would simply be to stall the biggest topic they had to discuss. Desmond. He knew the man would have to come up eventually; there were confessions to make on both their parts.

"Liam," Cinder smiled as he made his way through the darkness, trying to find the bed, "Are we really getting married? This feels like such a good dream! If I go to sleep now, I feel like I might wake up and still be back in the chateau with my step-family. We're _really_ getting married?"

Liam laughed, he could practically hear the beaming smile on Cinder's lips. "Yes, love, we're really getting married," he said, "The day after tomorrow. And only because we need at least one day to prepare, send out invitations, otherwise I would make you mine as soon as the sun rose."

Cinder found the bed and sat on the edge, still smiling. He heard the Prince crawling, searching through the sheets for him. The boy giggled when Liam's hands found his back. They grasped his hips and pulled the boy gently onto Liam's princely lap. The boy jolted, then paused and shifted out slowly, his heart racing.

"Are we going to talk about," Cinder looked down, allowing himself a deep breath, "Desmond?"

There was a silence as the Prince debated with himself. Could he afford to put it off for another night? No. But could he bear to hear what would come from Cinder's lips as an explanation of his step-brother? He decided he had to know tonight, but he could at least put it off for now.

"Tell me about your other family, your real mom and dad."

Cinder's hands stopped shaking momentarily, and he wiped the bangs out of his eyes, though the darkness prevented it from improving his vision. "My dad's name was Carter. I never knew him, or if I did, I was too young to remember it. But my mom loved him, so he must have been a very good man."

The Prince thought through the silence. "So," he hesitated, "…"

"I don't know if he's dead or not," Cinder smiled a sad kind of smile at the darkened figure in front of him he knew to be his prince. "I like to think he is. My mother always said he never left us."

"What was your mother's name?" The Prince slid his hand to Cinder's, and the boy only slightly hesitated to take it. The Prince liked this improvement.

"My mother's name was Lal. She was everything to me. She always said I was her twin, only more beautiful. I would always disagree with her. She married Master Tremanè when I was so young, I can't remember a time without him there. Same with Desmond and Annabella. But my mother died when I was seven."

"It sounds like you've had it really rough," the Prince said quietly.

"I don't think most people would say that," Cinder shook his head, "There are people who have it worse than I. And I always had a roof over my head and clothes on my back, and a family to fill the house. I was never hungry or cold, and I made friends with all the animals, so I was never lonely…"

Liam leaned forward, reaching out a hand. It found Cinder's ear and he stroked down to his cheek. "How old were you when the queen died," the Prince asked Cinder.

The boy, who was leaning into his Prince's comforting hand, paused, thinking. "I was about ten, maybe. I knew she had a son. I didn't know how old you were though. But I kept thinking you must be so sad, like I was."

Liam let the silence hang in the air for a while. He had missed his mom, he still did. The hand he had been caressing Cinder's cheek with slowly made it's way to the boy's back and pulled him closer. Cinder could feel sadness radiating from his prince, and he was unsure what to do. "Do you have fond memories of her?"

The Prince smiled, "Only fond memories. She never did a thing against me. Maybe I was a bit spoiled, but she was the perfect mother, and the perfect wife. You have her eyes, you know."

Cinder started at that. He looked up but through the moonlight in the window, could only see the reflection of the Prince's dark eyes- his father's, the Kings- eyes. "But that's just something I've noticed about you. Tell me more about your mother. Do you know why she named you Cinder? Did she like fires?"

Cinder chuckled, "No, she didn't name me Cinder. She always said my dad used to call me that because I played in the fireplace after the ashes cooled. It was a nickname that just stuck to me, like the cinders themselves." The boy was giggling, remembering his mother and his romps in ashes, but the Prince had sat up straighter.

"So if Cinder is just a nickname, then what is your birth name?"

Cinder shot another smile at the figure whose details he couldn't see. "My real name? I can't remember the last time anyone has called me by it. It's Cinciel. Now don't you start calling me that." Cinder reached up and teased at his Prince's neck. Liam laughed and squirmed away from the touch, only to return and poke into Cinder's ribs, a highly ticklish spot. The boy laughed and begged his Prince to stop, he was laughing so hard he couldn't breath. Liam laughed along with him.

They both still had smiles on their faces when Liam jumped back into the conversation, "So why do you go by Cinder if your mother gave you such a lovely birth name?"

"She wanted to call me Cinder because it reminded her, every time she said it, of my dad. And she said it so lovingly, I accepted it. I want to be called what she wanted to call me, and I still do. So please continue calling me 'Cinder' instead of changing to 'Cinciel'. Please."

"Of course, Cinder, whatever you want."

The boy smiled, "Thank you," and leaned against Liam's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

"I wonder how long it's been," Liam wondered, more to himself than to Cinder. "We have something else to talk about," he reminded the boy cautiously, "before the night is through."

Cinder tensed in his Prince's arms. He scooted away to face him, and reached a hesitant hand out to touch his neck. He could feel the bruise raised slightly from the rest of the skin. Small scabs the shapes of teeth were forming around it as well.

"What happened between you two?"

The Prince raised an eyebrow, "Love, I was about to ask you that. I need to know what you and Desmond were before I start spewing nonsense. So… You tell me what you two had first."

Cinder dropped his head, suddenly overwhelmed with shame and guilt. The Prince just barely caught the motion in the thin moonlight.

"Cinder?"

The boy shook his head, his lips began to tremble, and he couldn't find any words to say. The memories began to rush back, crystal clear. His legs spread apart, the green-gold fabric, remembering the taste of Desmond, so strong he thought it was stinging his tongue the moment he thought about it, the man's eyes, greedy and lustful, his hands, hurting and twisting, everything was painful. Cinder's body was wracked with uncontrollable trembling the more he thought about it. Liam felt the slight shaking, and reached out to Cinder again. The boy moved his face away. The tears started with the trembling, and he didn't want to put his Prince through any more tears.

"Cinder? Are you okay?"

"Desmond came to me after the ball," Cinder began, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying not to choke on his tears, "He saw me when I was there. _He recognized me. _He _knew_ it was me at the ball, and he waited until we were home alone together. He saw us disappear together and…" The boy's rushing words were stopped as he took in a strangled gasp of air.

Liam's hands instantly found their way to Cinder as he recognized the boy was struggling against tears. He wiped the tears that streamed down his bride's cheeks as he cradled the boy's face.

The Prince was afraid to know, but he felt he had to ask. "Then what happened?" The idea of letting it settle as it was crossed his mind, but it couldn't. If it settled now, they would never be able to dust it off later as a couple. Liam already suspected what had happened to his pure, innocent little Cinder.

"I was already in his room, I was serving breakfast. That's when he confronted me." Cinder kept looking down at the sheets- red and white, opposite of Desmond's flashy green and gold. The boy sniffed in, his body still trembled slightly, but with the thought of what he was about to say, it started to shudder twice as violently as before. "He forced himself on me," the boy whimpered, "He had his way with every part of me." And then he was yelling, "And I couldn't do anything! I couldn't stop him, because I'm so weak. I'm so weak," he sobbed, pulling his face away from Liam and burying it in his own hands. The boy was close to hysterics, coming to terms, admitting to what had happened to him. He hated himself for allowing it to happen, and he hated Desmond for making him hate him.

Liam sat in silence, not sure how to care for Cinder. He couldn't say he understood, because he couldn't. Nothing so tragic had happened to him. But he could feel the pain of a lover, knowing his other half was dying inside, crumpled and broken.

"Desmond came to my room after the first night you visited me," Desmond began, as calmly as he could, while Cinder's screaming sobs died down, "He told me you were his, and I thought you two were… romantically involved. But you came with me anyway when I offered. I almost told you to say with Desmond… But I'm glad you came with me, I'm glad I took the chance on you. And, I'm glad I could get you away from that."

Cinder whimpered, and then the Prince felt a small body smash into him as Cinder wrapped himself around his Prince's strong torso. "Somehow I knew you didn't love him, you didn't look at him like you look at me." Liam nuzzled into Cinder's neck, and the boy involuntarily flinched, starting the trembling again. The touch was too much after re-living the torment Desmond had put him through. The Prince pulled away for a moment, and then slowly leaned back in. He could just barely make out Cinder's delicate features, being this close to him. But what Liam could see, clearly reflecting in the moonlight through the window, were the seemingly ever-wondering eyes of his beloved.

"Can I kiss you," the Prince asked, knowing it was the worst timing he could ever ask for, knowing the boy would say know, knowing he shouldn't even have asked, but doing it anyway, because he had to offer comfort, closeness, to the boy he loved.

Cinder looked at him, then leaned against his shoulder and nodded. Liam smiled at the unexpected privilege, and wrapped his arms around Cinder tighter, sitting up with him. The boy sat on his lap, facing him, straddling him. Liam put his hands on Cinder's lower back, holding the nervous boy up.

And Cinder ran through the situation as their lips came together. The hand was holding him in place. He couldn't move. They were in a bed. They were alone. It was nighttime. The Prince was stronger than him. But as Cinder ran through all the hazards, the kiss ended, leaving a sweet trace behind.

"This is love, Cinder," Liam told the boy, and a cold hand suddenly grabbed Cinder's heart. The hand was a relative of fear, squeezing and squeezing the boy's heart, just like it had when Desmond caught him and twirled him while they sang 'This Is Love' together. Cinder crawled off his Prince, toward the pillows. He felt drowsy after crying and screaming. Liam followed him.

When they lay down, the Prince's chest was against Cinder's slender back. He wrapped an arm around the boy, but not before asking. In his ear, Liam whispered, "What Desmond did to you, I can't imagine what it was like, being alone. I promise it will never happen to you again. I will protect you forever."

Slowly, Cinder turned and fixed his enormous eyes in his Prince. "Because you love me?"

Liam smiled and kissed his bride's forehead, "Because I love you."


	24. Dress?

"Invitations? Really? Why even ask? Invite the whole kingdom! Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses from afar!"

Liam was going from station to station through the banquet hall, checking invitations, taste testing, selecting fabrics, and everything else. And everywhere he went, Cinder followed. He remained a silent and steady presence at the Prince's side through every station. When the Prince wanted the boy's opinion, he would start with "Cinder, love," and then present him with a food to taste or a color to judge, once even a flower arrangement placement. The boy always gave his honest assessment with a shake yes or no of his head. He kept quiet if he could help it in front of all the people bustling about.

He learned a great deal from being beside his Prince during this time, like his favorite color was red, he wanted white horses to draw a white carriage away, and they had to be Percherons, those were his favorite horse. Cinder also learned the Prince liked veal with white cheese and mushroom sauce, a dish the boy himself had never heard of. He also learned that the Royal Florist's name was Finnian.

Among all the confused voices, Cinder heard one suddenly very close.

"Your Highness," it said, out of the boy's view, "Any time your bride is ready, we will need to take her to the sewing room to take her measurements."

To Cinder it sounded like an old man's voice. What was an old man doing sewing? The boy poked his head around his Prince's chest and saw a very short, very round woman. She was about as tall as he was, with frizzy red hair down to her shoulders, and wearing a purple dress that fit quite loosely over her rotund figure.

"Oh. is this your bride," the woman asked with a heavy accent that Cinder could not place. He stepped out hesitantly from behind Liam. The woman had a round, friendly looking face, although her accent was a bit harsh sounding.

"Cinder, this is our Royal Seamstress, Olga," Liam introduced the woman, "We've got to go with her to get your dre- err, to get your wedding clothes fitted."

"Not 'we'," the seamstress suddenly snapped, "I am sorry, Your Highness, but I will not allow you to see the bride in all her glory until she is walking to you down the aisle!"

Liam raised an eyebrow at the woman. She inclined her head slightly to show her respect and yet, her definite stand on the matter. The man smiled and let out a little sigh. Cinder watched all this with silent fascination.

"Love," Liam turned to Cinder, "Will you be alright going to get your measurements with Seamstress Olga? By yourself? Without me?"

Cinder offered a slight smile to the woman, who returned it with a seemingly forced, friendly smile. The boy looked at his Prince and said simply, "Yes, I think so."

"We'll be off then!" Olga bowed respectively, and turned on her heels, her shoes clicking on the polished marble floor.

Cinder looked back at Liam. He reached down and cupped the boy's chin in his fingers. When Cinder looked down and away, nervous, he let go and kissed the boy on the forehead. "Have fun," the Prince offered. Cinder nodded and smiled honestly, then followed Olga out the large Banquet Hall doors to the sewing room, which was a little ways away from the main entrance stairs. The sewing room was a guilty pleasure of the Queen's before she had died. She made it a small room, for herself mostly, and yet it was quite comfortable. It had been known throughout the kingdom that the Queen loved sewing, be it dresses or shirts, and she never wore the same gown twice because of this.

"Now," Olga said when they had entered the room, "I'll need you to stand on that stool, there, if you would please, dear."

Cinder followed her manicured pointing finger to a small stool in the center of the room. The boy wandered to it and stood comfortably on its rather modest surface. He looked around the room, noticing the fabrics sticking out of drawers and hanging in open wardrobes, half finished gowns and bonnets.

"I wonder if the Queen's old wedding gown would fit you," Olga murmured to herself, wandering to a back room connected to the sewing room interior, "Seems it would be too big. She was so small but you're such a _dainty_ thing…"

Cinder peeked after the Seamstress and craned his neck, still unable to see anything past the doorway. "Dress, ma'am," he asked hesitantly, barely loud enough to hear, "Should I really...?"

"Of course," Olga replied as she came out of the back room, carrying a white silk dress. "Here," she handed the hangar to Cinder, "Try that on. Even if it doesn't fit, we'll be able to get a feel for your size, at least." She glanced back at him, a motherly smile on her wrinkled face, "I can tell you don't like dresses, dear. But this is your wedding!" When Cinder glumly took the Queen's dress off it's hook, she turned away to busy herself in the various drawers covering the pale rose walls.

The boy stepped off the stool and quickly stripped away to his under-pants, figuring even an undershirt wouldn't look quite right under a gown like this. He stepped onto the stool again and slipped the dress over his head. The silk fell around him smoothly and fell down a few inches past his ankles. The top of the dress hung loosely from one shoulder. Cinder could tell it was a dress that required the presence of breasts, and would sag against his bare chest. He stared down at himself, feeling a bit silly. The dress was made purely of silk, gathered at his left hip and cascading down in ripples and pools from there. It was simple, and yet elegant, as the Queen had been.

Olga heard the dress' rustling stop, and she turned around with an expectant smile, which drooped slightly when she saw that she couldn't re-use the Queen's dress, as it drooped off Cinder's frame. "Oh my," she sighed distractedly, "It's much too big. And I thought the Queen had been so tiny, God rest her soul. Oh, but your bust is so small!" Olga approached Cinder and looked down the front of the dress, puzzled. Then she gasped, "You aren't so young, are you?"

"I'm seventeen," Cinder looked at her, confused.

The Royal Seamstress returned the confused expression. Her eyes squinted and then grew wide as she hypothesis grew in her mind. Very suddenly, she pulled up the front of the dress around Cinder's body, and her suspicion was proven true by what she saw of his lower half. "Seamstress," he cried, pushing the dress back down, his face red. He turned away from her, thoroughly embarrassed. He noticed her eyes, brown and shining with mischief.

She had a wicked smile on her face. "So," she mused, "You're a young boy, not even a girl." She suddenly started laughing, "Well, you'll have to have a new wardrobe entirely! This is so exciting; I've never sewn for such a beautiful young prince! Ha!"

Cinder smiled at her, sharing in her overwhelming excitement. Olga snatched a measuring tape from one of the drawers close at hand, measuring the boy with rapid precision and marking it all down. "Oh, so small," she would mutter when measuring his shoulders and his waist, and then giggle to herself. When she was done, Cinder slipped off the dress and hung it back on its hanger. Olga was sketching on the pad she had written all Cinder's measurements on.

"Are you still going to have me wear a dress," he had to ask as he slipped his shorts back on, then his shirt and socks.

"Oh no, no," Olga looked hurt, "I would never impair your dignity by making you do that. I wouldn't have even put the Queen's dress on you if I had realized you were a boy. I'm so sorry! How does it feel being so feminine? Heh heh. You don't have to answer that, dear. Look here, I have an idea."

Cinder wandered to the woman's sketch pad. On it, she had drawn a brutally detailed sketch. A coat with long coattails, slightly curled, labeled 'white', with a pocket and a handkerchief in it labeled 'pale blue'. Under the coat was a vest, also labeled 'pale blue'. The buttons on each were labeled 'gold'. The pants were short, and Cinder wondered if it was okay to wear shorts at a wedding. But the back of the shorts had a long train attached, with three layers labeled 'white, blue, white'. Pale blue gloves were included, as well as pale blue thigh high socks, matched with knee length 'white' labeled boots. Cinder noticed frills on the edge of the vest and the bottoms of the shorts. He smiled, deeply thankful, "This looks wonderful!"

"Then I'll start right on it," Olga beamed, "You should head back to the banquet hall, I'm sure your prince is waiting."

Cinder allowed himself to be led to the door. He was blushing already, and Olga thought he was definitely going to be the most gorgeous definition of a 'blushing bride' in history.

"Oh," Cinder said, as if remembering something. He was halfway out the door. Seamstress Olga looked at him expectantly.

"If you need any help," the boy said, "Just call my Fairy Godmother. I'm sure she'll do all she can."

And a burst of magic entered the window as the boy shut the door and made his way to the banquet hall.


	25. Personal Invitation

"Cinder, why do you feel you have to do this? We could have sent someone, if you really want to invite them, but why let them see you? They don't deserve it."

The boy didn't look at Liam as he tried to talk him out of his decision. Cinder slowly took the three steps up to the front doors of the Tremanè Chateau. "They may have made bad decisions, and I may still fear what they'll say or do to me, but they took care of me, if you could call it that, they're the only family I have, and I know this is the least of what they deserve."

Liam stood behind his fiancé, edgy and restless as the boy knocked, three times, as loud as he could muster. With the silence that followed, he realized he probably hadn't knocked loud enough. He reached out and banged on the door three more times, louder than before.

Behind the house, the sun was going down, throwing orange and purple across the sky. Cinder waited, but Liam grew impatient. He leaned over the boy and knocked louder, four more times. The door opened right as his fist left the wood.

Annabella stood there, holding the door open, with a dumbfounded look on stuck to her face. She tilted her head to the side, questioning, looking at Cinder, and then she noticed the handsomely dressed prince standing behind him, glaring at her.

"Your Highness," she exclaimed, "Where have you-"

"Who is it, Annabella?" The voice came from the top of the main entrance stairs. Cinder could barely see past his step-sister's shoulder, but he caught a glimpse of his step-father, trailed by Desmond in a flash of green. The boy noticed, as the two men came closer, that Desmond's eyes widened as he assessed the situation, taking in his beloved with the Prince standing protectively behind him.

Annabella turned away from the guests at the door to watch her brother and father descend the stairs. "It's the Prince… And Cinder." The girl looked back at them sadly and opened the door for them to go in.

"Cinder," Master Tremanè's eyes widened now, "and the Prince Liam?" He saw the two men enter and his eyes narrowed. "Cinder," he shouted, "Where have you been!? I'm sorry, Your Majesty, for my boy causing you trouble!"

"Sir," Liam took a step forward, his eyes narrowed as he spoke in an authorative tone, "I suggest you do not embarrass yourself further by saying any more."

Master Tremanè recoiled slightly, and behind him, Desmond was seething. His nails stabbed into his palms as he balled his fists, his eyes began to darken, and he bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

"I, however bitterly, formerly invite you to my royal wedding, held tomorrow in the late noon," Liam almost growled.

"Liam," Cinder said under his breath, "Let me do this."

The Prince's glare softened when he looked at his bride-to-be. He took a step back and watched the ground, always looking back up at the other adults in the room, keeping a more careful eye on Desmond than the rest.

"Cinder, what is this all about? I hope you know how much trouble you're in!"

"Step-father," the boy began, hesitating, and stumbling over words in his mind, trying to find the right ones, "I have some news for you, family… You might not like it, but to me it's good news."

"What news could you possibly have for us," Master Tremanè asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes to add to the effect. He glared evenly between his young step-son and the prince that had come with him. He could already tell he wouldn't like the news. Any news good for Cinder would most likely be bad for them. Master Tremanè felt a sudden pang in his heart, though he couldn't tell if it was fear or worry.

"I'm getting married," Cinder said, offering a shy, hopeful smile, "And then I'm leaving this place."

"Like hell you are," Desmond burst suddenly, pushing past his father. Master Tremanè grabbed his son by the wrist and pulled him backwards. "Calm yourself, Desmond," the older man commanded.

"How can I be calm," Desmond was still shouting, "He plans on leaving us! Leaving me! I won't sit still for that!"

Master Tremanè ignored his son and instead turned a worry-wrinkled face to Cinder. "Are you marrying him," he inclined his head to the Prince.

Cinder nodded.

"No," Annabella suddenly screamed, "I was supposed to marry the Prince!"

The male faces all turned to her. She had been so quiet until this point; they had almost forgotten she was there. "Cinder, you've always been good to me," she wailed, "Why are you suddenly stealing my things? You're so selfish! We gave you everything you needed!"

"Annabella," Cinder whimpered sadly, almost regretfully. But he shook his head, "I'm sorry, but he asked and I accepted."

"I told you what would happen if you went near him," Desmond was shouting at Liam now, and Master Tremanè had to restrain him as he tried to reach the prince, "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch Prince!"

Annabella wiped tears out of her eyes and Cinder stared at Desmond, who ignored him in his anger. "Let go of me, father," he continued to shout, over and over, "I'll kill him! Cinder is mine!"

"Cinder," Annabella was crying again, though over her lost prince or her leaving step-brother, it was hard to tell, "Who will take care of us? Who will bring me breakfast in the morning and do my hair?"

"Annabella," Master Tremanè spat out, huffing from the effort of holding his son away from charging the Prince.

"You have lots of money," Cinder interrupted his step-father, "I'm sure you could hire someone else to do it. Or you could even learn to do it for yourself!"

Annabella nodded sadly and continued wiping her tears, too choked up to say more.

"What do you have to say for yourself," Desmond yelled to Prince Liam, "How could you take him away, you bastard!"

Liam met Cinder's sad eyes. The boy nodded to him. "I think it's time we left," he told his step-family, "But my intent today was to say farewell. I'll never come to this house again, even if it kills me. But with that said, I want you to accept an invitation to the wedding, so this catastrophe isn't our last memory together."

Desmond had quieted down, but he still struggled against his father's grip.

Cinder took a blue and silver ribbon-tied envelope from his jacket pocket and placed it on a side table by the door. Liam opened the door for Cinder as they showed themselves out. The boy looked back for a second, as he realized this might be the last time he saw any of the people he had been raised with. Desmond had stopped struggling, and he had a stony look in his eyes. Annabella was fleeing with a tear-soaked face up the stairs to her room. Master Tremanè sagged to his knees.

Cinder saw all this in a second, then he turned and walked down the porch steps to the carriage. Liam offered a simple polite bow, and then slammed the door on his way out.

In the carriage, Liam sighed and leaned heavily against the curtained window. "That was the most stressful, most difficult thing I've done in a long time," he groaned, rubbing his closed eyes.

Cinder sat next to him, looking out the opposite window. "Thank you for coming with me. I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own…"

The Prince looked at his soon to be bride and smiled a tired smile. "Anything for you, though I can't say I look forward to their attendance to our wedding now."

The small blonde boy smiled and scooted closer to his Prince. He reached out slowly, and Liam watched his hand come. It brushed his lips and cheek, and the Prince leaned into it welcomingly, closing his eyes and relaxing at the scent of Cinder's skin. With his eyes closed, Liam couldn't see the boy moving closer and leaning forward. He could feel the slight pull of his hand, and followed it, as the boy pulled their lips together.


	26. The Wedding

The Prince waited impatiently at the altar, taking in every detail. He listened to every sound, saw every color, heard every voice. But over the other voices, he heard his father's.

"My boy is getting married! What's that you say? He's the Prince, you moron! He can have anyone he wants as a bride! They have my every blessing!" He went on and on.

Liam smiled. He really respected his father. He was proud of him, he looked to him, and especially in times like these, he really loved him.

"Oh look, the musicians are here! The bride must be on his way! Sit down everyone, sit down and be quiet!" The King was yelling and ushering everyone into their seats. He just sat down as the Prince faced away from the crowd and his incoming bride, staring at the pure white marble and waiting, listening.

The music started to play, the murmur of the crowd died down, and the Prince took a deep breath that did nothing to calm the smile on his face. He thought his smile couldn't get any bigger when he heard the doors at the end of the ballroom open and the crowd gasp and murmur a collective 'wow' or 'so beautiful' as Cinder padded softly down the carpet.

The boy was as Olga imagined, the most gorgeous blushing bride in the kingdom, as he walked down the aisle. He reminded himself over and over again of her words, that she made sure he was beautiful today, and no one would be able to honestly say otherwise. He tried not to look at any of the other faces, all the faces he did not know. But out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of red, and saw Annabella, peering over the other nobles to get a glimpse of him, and waving brightly when they made eye contact. He smiled wider.

The ballroom felt like an incredibly long way to walk, but the soft swish of his train trailing behind him and the marital march kept him going to his Prince.

He took the first step up to the altar, tightening his grip on the white-bowed, white lilies that he had carried in front of him down the aisle. The Prince's resolve to not look until Cinder made it all the way to him broke, and he turned to see his bride. The boy smiled at him from under the veil as he took the second step. Liam's heartbeat doubled its already speedy pace. He reached a hand out and Cinder took it as he climbed the third step. The Prince could see under the boy's veil, his smile and his face, pink like cherry blossoms against snow.

"We are gathered here today," the Priest began in the dull voice all Priests are cursed with. The old man was secretly hiding a scowl. Being a holy man, he hated the idea of marrying two men. But the King himself had ordered it be so. But the old Priest could see under Cinder's veil better than even the Prince. The old man saw the young boy's eyes, bright and blue like the sky God himself resided in. The old man saw in the young boy's eyes hope and love and fear, like he was looking upon heaven and the angels were holding their hands out to him. The old man saw this boy, like an angel himself, and couldn't help but feel his heart warm. Surely, God would have willed this marriage holy, otherwise, why would such a creature as this boy appear before an old man committing a sin by marrying him to another man? The old man, feeling justified within himself, could happily smile as he asked the couple to recite any vows they had prepared.

The Prince took Cinder's gloved hands in his own, "I didn't think I would ever find someone like you. Even after I found you, I never thought I would be able to capture your heart after all your hurt. But I didn't have to trap anything in a cage; you simply handed your heart to me and said 'be careful'. My dear, I can tell you, I will wrap your heart in mine and keep you safe, even if it kills me. I'll protect you forever, because from the first time our hands touched, I was spellbound, and you turned into my everything, my very being, and I know you will be from now until forever, my love."

Tears streamed from beneath the veil, but a smile spread from under it as well.

Cinder sniffed in. He still held onto his Prince's hands as he said, "I didn't think I would ever find someone like you. Even after I found you, I never thought I'd be able to capture your heart, after all of my own hurt. I never thought I could find someone to look at me like you do, as an equal. But you found me, and you do. And when you held my hand for that first dance, I was spellbound, and you turned into my everything. With those same hands, you led me here, to happiness, where I can love and be loved. Forever."

The old Priest had a dreamy look in his eyes as he closed his holy book. He watched the couple closely as he said, "You may now kiss the bride."

Liam came closer to Cinder and lifted the veil away gently. The boy looked into His Prince's eyes, sparkling with love. The Prince brought his hands slowly up to hold the boy's face, tenderly and lovingly. He leaned down and Cinder met him on his tiptoes, kissing him with his whole being, with every fiber of passion in his small body. His own hands rose to Liam's, and he held the man's wrists in place, though not forcefully. And when their lips parted, he still held on, gazing into his other half's eyes. Behind them, the room exploded into applause and cheering.

"That's my boy," the King shouted above the noise, "That's my boy!"

Cinder unconsciously flinched away from the uproar, but Liam's arm slipping around his waist held him steady.

What neither of them realized, as they ran to their carriage, was that almost no one in the vast ballroom audience had heard young Cinder's vows. They erupted into applause for the strange love in front of them simply because the passion they saw in the eyes of the couple. It was a love more burning, more intense, than almost any of them had experienced for themselves, and it was something they accepted for that reason. Love was something that could not be stopped, and it was beautiful, no matter who it was between.

Cinder and His Prince ran down the outside steps, their horses waiting for them. People threw white rose petals after them, blessing whatever future may come for them.

They crashed into the carriage and slammed the door behind them in their excitement. They laughed and held onto each other, hating the thought of letting go. Cinder lay in Liam's lap, gazing up at him as the carriage pulled away from the castle. "Liam," he cooed gently.

"Yes, my love," the man responded with a playful smile.

The boy smiled back in the same fashion, "I love you!"

"I love you too, Cinder," Liam pulled the boy up to him and they shared another perfect kiss.

And the two lived happily ever after.

THE END

*Look forward to an after-word written from Cinder's point of view as well as the bonus honeymoon lemon chapter after that! Thank you for being patient and sticking with me through my first complete fanfic! I can't tell you how much I appreciate your reading! *


	27. Epilogue

It has been so many years. Some of them have been tiring, some have been worrisome. But looking back, reaching the end of my years, I realize they have all been worth the heart-ache. Through it all, my dear Liam, my Prince, has been by my side, protecting me until the day he died, like he always promised he would.

Our grandchildren are playing in front of the fire now, as I reflect on my many years. They are ten and fifteen, both beautiful as we were in our youth. Liam's death took its toll on the kingdom, being felt in all its corners, crannies, and caves. But the damage overall could not amount to the devastation felt in the center, at the castle. Our grandchildren hadn't even been born then. Our children, Salim and Atticus, were already grown up, lucky to have known their father in their childhood years. They coaxed me out of bed those first few months, they told me they knew their father, they knew he would want for me to continue living. To live happily and peacefully in the kingdom they had created together.

But I could not rule without him by my side. Salim took the throne, being the Prince's real son.

Yes, we had children the only way we could. The King's one condition was grandchildren, after all. The woman he chose was named Claire, and the King thought she looked just like me. Liam couldn't stand the thought of what he had to do, but we both did what had to be done. Claire was warm and compassionate, happily having our children for the sake of the kingdom. She was a wonderful woman. She gave birth to Salim first, of Liam's seed. And then to Atticus, of mine. She never left us, and is sitting in a chair closer to the fire, talking to my grandchildren, but also hers. They don't know their relation to her, and she agrees that it is better this way. Her hair is as gray as mine, and we know there isn't much left for us here.

I look to Atticus and his wife, sitting around a small table behind mine and Claire's chairs in front of the fire. Across him, his brother Salim and his wife are holding each other. Atticus turned out to be quite a lot larger than I was at his age. He had my wispy blonde hair and the large blue eyes that passed through our family. And Salim, who I never thought of as anyone's son other than my own, looked just like Liam. I saw my son and I missed my lover with an ache in my chest, like a hand squeezing and trying to burst it out of my chest.

I close my eyes and lean back, sighing gently.

I think about Annabella, who married a baker. I think about Desmond, who disappeared from the kingdom. I think about my step father, who died alone in my old home. I remember my Fairy God Mother, turning it into a garden. She took Liam and I there for out fifteenth anniversary, and we drank cherry wine, and rolled in the flowers together.

I blink slowly, and realize it's easier to keep my eyes closed and let the fire warm my closed eyelids.

Oh Liam, I think to myself, Why did you die before me? I've been missing you all these years, its been so hard. But you should see how are children have grown. You should see your grandchildren. Our grandchildren.

I sighed, suddenly tired. In the dark of my closed eyes, I saw a figure, and realized it was me. But not the gray-haired, wrinkly faced, sad old man I am now. No, the blonde, smooth, bright-eyed young boy I used to be. The happy one, after Liam had made me realized I was allowed to be.

My boy self was walking, pools of light appearing at his feet. I kept thinking, Liam, why did you go before I did. And my boy self would reach out, like he was searching. He found a gate, a big golden gate. My Liam was on the other side. He opened it for me, letting me into his light, his warmth, his being. And he answered my question.

"Because," he smiled, "I love you."

The fire was dimming, hours having passed. Salim looked over at his sons, still lying in front of the fire. Claire was napping in a chair beside his dad; her eyes closed lightly, a small smile playing on her lips. But Salim noticed, beside her, his dad was slumped, his neck at an awkward position. A shock ran through him, and he looked at Atticus. The younger sibling looked toward his dad, noticing his position as well.

Salim stepped quickly to the chair. "Father?"

Atticus was right behind him, "Daddy?"

Cinder didn't move. Didn't stir.

The boys moved closer. Salim put his hand on his dad's shoulder, and the old man still didn't move. The young King shook his father's shoulder. Gently at first, but then harder and harder. He kept shaking his head, not wanting to believe what his mind was already telling him.

Atticus still his shaking, but not before Cinder's head rolled back, and the brothers could see the smile spread across his lips. Atticus touched his dad's neck, tenderly, searching for a pulse.

He couldn't find one.

FIN

Liam put his arms around Cinder, and the boy cried onto his chest. They were the happiest tears he had ever shed. "I missed you Liam, I missed you."

"I know," the Prince said, "But now I really can love you, and be with you, forever."

Cinder looked up at him, the clouds swirling behind his head, the sun shining, making him almost godly. "Forever," the boy nodded his young head, then squeezed his Prince tightly, letting go of everything behind him.


End file.
